M43b 

\822 


I 


BERTRAM: 


OR, 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ST.  ALDOBRANI). 


A  TRAGEDY, 


IN  FIVE  ACTS. 


BY  THE  REV  R.  C.  MATURIN, 


Author  of  Fatal  Revenge,  Wild  Irish  Boy,  Milesian  Chief,  &c.  &c. 


PHILADELPHIA 


PUBLISHED  BY  THOMAS  II.  PALMER. 


1822. 


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BERTRAM; 


OR, 

THE  CASTLE  OF  ST.  ALDOBRAND. 


ACT  I. 

scene  i — night ,  a  gallery  in  a  convent ,  a  large  goth- 
ic  window  in  the  extremity ,  through  which  light¬ 
ning  is  seen  flashing — two  monks  enter  in  terror . 

1  st  Monk.  Heaven  for  its  mercy  !— what  a  night 
is  here — 

Oh  !  didst  thou  hear  that  peal? 

2 d  Monk.  The  dead  must  hear  it. 

(a  p.ause,  thunder ) 

Speak,  speak,  and  let  me  hear  a  human  voice ! 

Monk.  While  the  dark  terror  hurtled  distantly, 
Lapt  in  the  skirts  of  the  advancing  clouds, 

I  cower’d  with  head  full  low  upon  my  pallet, 

And  deem’d  that  i  might  sleep  ;  till  the  strong  light 
clear  as  noon  day,  show  each  object  round  me. 
Relic,  and  rosary,  and  crucifix, 

Did  rock  and  quiver  in  the  bickering  glare — 

Then  forth  I  rush’d  in  agony  of  fear. 

2 d  Monk.  Among  the  tombed  tenants  of  the  clois- 
I  walked  and  told  my  beads.  [ter 

But,  by  the  momently  gleams  of  sheeted  blue, 

Did  the  pale  marbles  glare  so  sternly  on  me, 

I  almost  deem’d  they  lived,  and  fled  in  horror. 

1st  Monk.  There  is  much  comfort  in  a  holy  man 
In  such  an  hour  as  this.  ( knocking  at  a  door) 

Ho,  wake  thee,  prior  !  » 

a  2 


6  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

2 d  Monk.  Oh  !  come  forth,  holy  prior,  and  pray  for 
us. 

enter  the  prior. 

Prior .  All  peace  be  with  you  !  ’tis  a  fearful  hour. 
Is?  Monk  Hath  memory  a  parallel  to  this  ? 

2 d  Monk.  How  hast  thou  fared  in  this  most  awful 
lime  ? 

Prior.  As  one  whom  fear  did  not  make  pitiless  : 

I  bowed  me  at  the  cross  for  those  whose  heads 
Are  naked  to  the  visiting  blasts  of  Heaven, 

In  this  its  hour  of  wrath— 

For  the  lone  traveller  on  the  hill  of  storms  ; 

For  the  toss’d  shipman  on  the  perilous  deep  ; 

Till  the  last  peal  that  thundered  o’er  mine  head 
Did  force  a  cry  of — mercy  for  myself. 

“  1st  Monk.  ( eagerly )  Think’st  thou  these  rock- 
based  turrets  will  abide  ? 

u  2 d  Monk.  Think’st  thou  they  will  not  topple  o’er 
our  heads  ? 

11  Prior.  The  hand  of  Him  who  rules  the  storm  is 
o’er  us.” 

Is?  Monk.  Oh,  holy  prior,  this  is  no  earthly  storm. 
The  strife  of  fiends  is  on  the  battling  clouds, 

The  glare  of  hell  is  in  these  sulphurous  lightnings,— 
This  is  no  earthly  storm. 

Prior.  Peace,  peace,  thou  rash  and  unadvised 
man  ; 

Oh,  add  not  to  this  night  of  nature’s  horrors 
The  darker  shadowing  of  thy  wicked  fears. 

The  hand  of  Heaven,  not  man,  is  dealing  with  us, 
And  thoughts  like  thine  do  make  it  deal  thus  sternly 

enter  a  monk  fiale  and  breathless. 

Prior.  Speak,  thou  hast  something  seen. 

2d  Monk.  A  fearful  sight. 

Prior.  What  hast  thou  seen  ? 

3d  Monk.  A  piteous,  fearful  sight — 

A  noble  vessel  labouring  with  the  storm 
Hath  struck  upon  the  rocks  beneath  our  walls, 

And,  by  the  quivering  gleams  of  livid  blue, 


BERTRAM. 


7 


Act  I] 


Her  deck  is  crowded  with  despairing  souls, 

And  in  the  hollow  pauses  of  the  storm 
We  heard  their  perishing  cries  — 

Prior .  Now  haste  ye  forth, 

Haste  all. 

3 d  Monk.  It  cannot  be,  it  is  too  late  ; 

For  many  a  fathom  doth  the  beetling  rock 

Rise  o’er  the  breaker’s  surge  that  dashes  o’er  them  ; 

No  help  of  human  hand  can  reach  them  there ; 

One  hour  will  hush  their  cries,  and  by  the  morn 
Thou  wilt  behold  the  ruin — wreck  and  corse. 

Float  on  the  weltering  wave. 

Prior.  Almighty  power, 

Can  nought  be  done  ?  all  things  are  possible — 

Wave  high  your  torches  on  each  crag  and  cliff- — 

Let  many  lights  blaze  on  our  battlements — 

Shout  to  them  in  the  pauses  of  the  storm, 

And  tell  them  there  is  hope— 

And  let  our  deep-toned  bell  its  loudest  peal 
Send  cheerly  o’er  the  deep — 

’Twill  be  a  comfort  to  the  wretched  souls 
In  their  extremity — all  things  are  possible  ; 

Fresh  hope  may  give  them  strength,  and  strength 
deliverance — 

I’ll  hie  me  forth  with  you. 

3 d.  Monk.  Wilt  thou  go  forth  ?— 

Hardly  the  vigorous  step  of  daring  youth 

May  hold  its  footing  on  those  wave-washed  crags : 

And  how  wilt  thou  abide  ? 

1st  Monk.  ’Tis  tempting  Heaven. — 

Prior.  To  succour  man,  not  tempt  my  God,  I  go  ; 
He  will  protect  his  servant.  [exeunt 


8 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


sccne  ii — the  rocks — the  sea — a  storm — the  con¬ 
vent  illuminated  in  the  back  ground — the  bell  tolls 
at  intervals — a  group  of  monks  on  the  rocks  with 
torches — “ a  vessel  in  distress  in  the  offing” 

enter  the  prior  and  monks  below. 

Prior.  ( clasping  his  hands')  Holy  St.  Anselm  I 
what  a  sight  is  here  ! 

Is*  Monk.  Pray  for  their  souls — their  earthly  part 
is  doomed. 

Prior.  Oh,  that  a  prayer  could  hush  the  element  ! 
Hold,  I  do  espy  a  hope,  a  blessed  hope — 

That  wave  hath  heaved  her  from  the  rock  she  struck 
Lo,  every  arm  on  board  is  plied  for  safety —  [on. 
Now,  all  the  saints  to  speed. 

Monk.  No  saint  doth  hear. 

Lo,  the  recoiling  surge  drives  fiercely  o’er  her — 

In,  holy  prior,  or  ere  their  drowning  shriek 
Do  rive  the  sense  ;  in,  in,  and  tell  thy  beads. 

Prior.  I  will  not  in,  while  to  that  hopeless  wreck 
One  arm  doth  cling  ;  while  o’er  the  roaring  waste 
One  voice  be  raised  for  help,  I  will  not  hence. 

(Monks  above ) 

She  sinks,  she  sinks — oh,  hour  of  wo  and  horror  ! 

(“  the  vessel  sinks.” — the  prior  falls  into  the  arms 
of  the  monks — the  scene  shuts) 

scene  in — the  gallery. 

enter  the  first  monk  and  the  prior. 

1st  Monk.  Now  rest  you,  holy  prior,  you  are  much 
moved — 

Prior.  ( not  heeding  him)  All,  all  did  perish 

1st  Monk.  Change  those  drenched  weeds - 

Prior.  I  wist  not  of  them — every  soul  did  perish — 


Act.  I] 


BERTRAM. 


9 


enter  third  monk  hastily. 

3d  Monk.  No,  there  was  one  did  battle  with  the 
storm, 

With  careless,  desperate  force  ;  full  many  times 
His  life  was  won  and  lost,  as  though  he  recked  not — 
No  hand  did  aid  him,  and  he  aided  none — 

Alone  he  breasted  the  broad  wave,  alone 

That  man  was  saved - 

Prior.  Where  is  he  ?  lead  him  hither. 

( the  stranger  is  led  in  by  monks ) 

liaise  to  St.  Anselm,  thou  redeemed  soul, 

Raise  high  thy  living  voice  in  prayer  and  praise  ; 

For  wondrous  hath  his  mercy  been  to  thee - 

2 d  Monk.  He  hath  not  spoken  yet— 

Stranger.  Who  are  those  round  me  ? 

Where  am  I  ? 

Prior.  On  the  shore  of  Sicily — 

The  convent  of  St.  Anselm  this  is  called — 

Near  is  the  castle  of  lord  Aldobrand, 

A  name  far  known,  if,  as  thy  speech  imports, 
Thou’rt  of  Italian  birth-  — 

(, At  the  name  of  Aldobrand ,  the  stranger  makes  an 
effort  to  break  from  the  monks ,  but  falls  through 
weakness ) 

Tell  us  thy  name,  “  sad  man - ” 

Stranger.  A  man  of  wo— — 

Prior.  What  is  thy  wo,  that  Christian  love  may 
heal  it  ? 

Hast  thou  upon  the  pitiless  waters  lost 
Brother,  or  sire,  or  son  ?  did  she  thou  lovest 
Sink  in  thy  straining  sight  ? 

Or  have  the  hoardings  of  thy  worldly  thrift 
Been  lost  with  youder  wreck  ? 

( to  these  questions  the  stranger  gives  signs  of  dissent ) 
Why  dost  thou  then  despond  ? 

Stranger.  Because  I  live - 

Prior.  Look  not  so  wild!  can  we  do  aught  for  thee? 


10  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Stran.  Yes,  plunge  me  in  the  waves  from  which 
ye  snatch’d  me  ; 

So  will  the  sin  be  on  your  souls,  not  mine' 

Prior.  I’ll  question  not  with  him— -his  brain  is 
wrecked — 

For  ever  in  the  pauses  of  his  speech 
His  lip  doth  work  with  inward  mutterings, 

And  his  fixed  eye  is  rivetted  fearfully 
On  something  that  no  other  sight  can  spy  ; 

Food  and  rest  will  restore  him  ;  lead  him  in— 
Stran.  ( dashing  off  the  monks  as  they  approach) 
Off!  ye  are  men — there’s  poison  in  your  touch — 

( sinking  back ) 

But  I  must  yield,  for  this  has  left  me  strengthless. 

\exeunt 

scene  iv — a  hall  in  the  castle  of  Aldobrand. 

enter  pietro  and  teresa  meeting. 

Piet.  Hah,  Teresa  waking  !  was  ever  such  a  tem¬ 
pest  ? 

Ter.  The  lady  Imogine  would  watch  all  night, 
And  I  have  tended  on  her.  What  roused  thee  ? 

Piet.  Would  you  could  tell  me  what  would  give  me 
sleep  in  such  a  night.  I  know  of  but  one  remedy  for 
fear  and  wakefulness  ;  that  is  a  flagon  of  wine.  I 
hoped  the  thunder  would  have  waked  old  Hugo  to 
open  the  cellar  door  for  me. 

Ter.  He  has  left  his  bed.  E’en  now  I  passed  him 
Measuring  the  banquet  hall  with  restless  steps. 

And  moody  fretful  gestures.  He  approaches. 

enter  hugo. 

Piet.  Hugo,  well  met.  Does  e’en  thy  age  bear 
memory  of  so  ferrible  a  storm. 

Hug.  They  have  been  frequent  lately. 

Piet.  They  are  ever  so  in  Sicily. 

Hug.  So  it  is  said.  But  storms  when  I  was  young 
Would  still  pass  o’er  like  Nature’s  fitful  fevers, 


BERTRAM. 


Act  I] 


11 


And  rendered  all  more  wholesome.  Now  their  rage 
Sent  thus  unseasonable  and  profitless 
Speaks  like  the  threats  of  Heaven. 

Ter .  Heaven  grant  its  wrath  visit  not  my  kind 
lady. 

Hug.  Heaven  grant,  Teresa, 

She  may  be  still  as  happy  in  these  halls, 

As  when  she  tripped  the  green  a  rural  maid, 

“  And  caroll’d  light  of  heart,”  ere  her  good  father’s 
ruin, 

Or  our  lord  saw  and  loved  her. 

Piet.  See  if  madam  Clotilda  be  not  roused. 

Ter.  I’m  glad,  for  she’s  our  lady’s  loved  companion, 
And  most  esteemed  attendant. 

enter  Clotilda. 


Clot.  Is  the  lady  Imogine  risen  ? 

Ter.  She  hath  not  rested  through  the  night. 

Long  ere  the  storm  arose,  her  restless  gestures 
Forbade  all  hope  to  see  her  blessed  with  sleep. 

Clot.  Since  her  lord’s  absence  it  is  ever  thus. 

But  soo'n  he  will  return  to  his  loved  home, 

And  the  gay  knights  and  noble  wassailers 
Banish  her  lonely  melancholy.  ( horn  heard  without ) 
Monk.  ( without )  What,  ho  ! 

Hug.  There’s  some  one  at  the  gate. 

My  fears  presage  unwelcome  messengers 
At  such  untimely  hours. 

Clot.  Attend  the  summons,  Hugo. 

I  seek  the  lady  Imogine.  If  ’tis  aught 

Concerns  her  or  our  lord,  follow  me  thither,  [exeunt 

scene  v — a  gothic  apartment — imogine  discover¬ 
ed  sitting  at  a  table ,  looking  at  a  picture. 

Imo .  Yes, 

The  limner’s  art  may  trace  the  absent  feature. 

And  give  the  eye  of  distant  weeping  faith 


12 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


To  view  the  form  of  its  idolatry  : 

But  oh,  the  scenes  smid  which  they  met  and  parted ; 
The  thoughts,  the  recollections  sweet  and  bitter  ; 

Th’  Elysian  dreams  of  lovers,  when  they  loved — ■ 
Who  shall  restore  them  ? 

“  Less  lovely  are  the  fugitive  clouds  of  eve, 

And  not  more  vanishing  ” — if  thou  couldst  speak, 
Dumb  witness  of  the  secret  soul  of  Imogine, 

Thou  might'st  acquit  the  faith  of  womankind — 
Since  thou  wast  on  my  midnight  pillow  laid, 

Friend  hath  forsaken  friend — the  brotherly  tie 
Been  lightly  loosed — the  parted  coldly  met — 

Yea  mothers  have  with  desperate  hands  wrought 
harm, 

To  little  lives  from  their  own  bosoms  lent. 

But  woman  still  hath  loved — if  that  indeed 
Woman  e'er  loved  like  me. 

enter  Clotilda. 

Clot.  The  storm  seems  hushed — wilt  thou  to  rest, 
lady  ? 

Irno.  1  feel  no  lack  of  rest - 

Clot.  Then  let  us  stay, 

And  watch  the  last  peal  murmuring  on  the  blast. 

1  will  sit  by  the  while,  so  thou  wilt  tell 
Some  pleasant  story  to  beguile  the  time. 

Imo.  I  am  not  in  the  mood. 

Clot.  I  pray  thee,  tell  me  of  some  shadowy  thing 
Crossing  the  traveller  on  his  path  of  fear, 

On  such  a  night  as  this — 

“  Or  shipwrecked  seaman  clinging  to  a  crag, 

From  which  some  hand  of  darkness  pushes  him.” 

Imo.  Thou  simple  maid, 

Thus  to  enslave  thy  heart  to  foolish  fears. 

Clot.  Far  less  i  deem  of  peril  is  in  such, 

Than  in  those  tales  women  most  love  to  list  to; 

The  tales  of  love — for  they  are  all  untrue. 

Imo.  Lightly  thou  say'st  that  woman's  love  is  false, 
The  thought  is  falser  far — 


BERTRAM. 


13 


Act  I] 

For  some  of  them  are  true  as  martyr’s  legends, 

As  full  of  suffering  faith,  of  burning  love, 

Of  high  devotion,  worthier  heaven  than  earth - 

Oh,  I  do  know  a  tale. 

Clot.  Of  knight  or  lady  ? 

Imo.  Of  one  who  loved — she  was  of  humble  birth, 
Yet  dared  to  love  a  proud  and  noble  youth. 

His  sovereign’s  smile  was  on  him — glory  blazed 
Around  his  path,  yet  did  he  smile  on  her — 

Oh,  then  what  visions  were  that  blessed  one’s! 

His  sovereign’s  frown  came  next — 

‘‘Then  bowed  the  banners  on  his  crested  walls, 

Torn  by  the  enemies’  hand  from  their  proud  height, 
Where  twice  two  hundred  years  they  mocked  the 
storm. 

The  stranger’s  step  profan’d  his  desolate  halls,” 

An  exiled  outcast,  houseless,  nameless,  abject, 

He  fled  for  life,  and  scarce  by  flight  did  save  it. 

No  hoary  beadsman  bid  his  parting  step 
God  speed — no  faithful  vassal  followed  him  : 

For  fear  had  withered  every  heart  but  hers, 

Who  amid  shame  and  ruin  loved  him  better. 

Clot.  Did  she  partake  his  lot  ? 

Imo.  She  burned  to  do  it, 

But  ’twas  forbidden. 

Clot .  How  proved  she  then  her  love  ? 

Imo  Was  it  not  love  to  pine  her  youth  away  l 
In  her  lone  bower  she  sat  all  day  to  hearken 
For  tales  of  him,  and — soon  came  tales  of  wo. 

High  glory  lost,  he  wrecked  not  what  was  saved— 
With  desperate  men  in  desperate  ways  he  dealt — 

A  change  came  o’er  his  nature,  and  his  heart, 

Till  she  that  bore  him  had  recoiled  from  him, 

“  Nor  know  the  alien  visage  of  her  child.” 

Yet  still  she  loved,  yea,  still  lived  hopeless  on. 

Clot.  Hapless  lady!  what  hath  befallen  her? 

Imo.  PotFmany  a  miserable  year  hath  past — 

"She  knows  him  as  one  dead,  or  worse  than  dead  ; 

B 


14  BERTRAM.  [Maturltv 

And  many  a  change  her  varied  life  hath  known, 

But  her  heart  none. 

In  the  lone  hour  of  tempest  and  of  terror, 

Her  soul  was  on  the  dark  hill’s  side  with  Bertram. 
Yea,  when  the  launched  bolt  did  sear  the  sense, 

Her  soul’s  deep  orisons  were  breathed  for  him. 

Was  not  this  love  !  yea,  thus  doth  woman  love. 

Clot.  “  I  would  I  had  beheld  their  happier  hours.” 
Hast  thou  e’er  seen  the  dame  ?  I  pray  thee,  paint  her. 

Imo.  They  said  her  cheek  of  youth  was  beautiful, 
Till  withering  sorrow  blanched  the  bright  rose  there : 
And  I  have  heard  men  swear  her  form  was  fair  ; 

But  grief  did  lay  his  icy  finger  on  it, 

And  chilled  it  to  a  cold  and  joyless  statue. 

“  Methought  she  carolled  blithely  in  her  youth, 

As  the  couched  nestling  trills  his.  vesper  lay, 

But  song  and  smile,  beauty  and  melody, 

And  youth  and  happiness  are  gone  from  her. 
Perchance,  even  as  she  is,  he  would  not  scorn  her, 

If  he  could  know  her — for,  for  him  she’s  changed  ; 
She  is  much  altered,  but  her  heart — her  heart — ” 
Clot.  I  would  I  might  behold  that  wretched  lady. 
In  all  her  sad  and  waning  loveliness. 

Imo.  Thou  wouldst  not  deem  her  wretched — out¬ 
ward  eyes 

Would  hail  her  happy. 

They’ve  decked  her  form  in  purple  and  in  pall. 
When  she  goes  forth  the  thronging  vassals  kneel, 
And  bending  pages  bear  her  footcloth  well — 

No  eye  beholds  that  lady  in  her  bower. 

That  is  her  hour  of  joy,  for  then  she  weeps, 

Nor  does  her  husband  hear. 

Clot.  Sayst  thou  her  husband  ? — 

How  could  she  wed,  she  who  did  love  so  well  ? 

Imo.  How  could  she  wed!  what  could  I  do  but  wed? 
“  Hast  seen  the  sinking  fortunes  of  thy  house — 

Hast  felt  the  bitter  gripe  of  shameful  want — ” 


15 


Act  I]  BERTRAM. 

Hast  seen  a  father  on  the  cold,  cold  earth, 

Hast  read  his  eye  of  silent  agony, 

That  asked  relief,  but  would  not  look  reproach 
Upon  his  child  unkind— 

I  would  have  wed  disease,  deformity, 

\ea,  griped  death’s  grisly  form  to  ’scape  from  it— 
And  yet  some  sorcery  was  wrought  on  me, 
for  earlier  things  do  seem  as  yesterday, 

But  I’ve  no  recollection  of  the  hour 
They  gave  my  hand  to  Aldobrand. 

Clot.  Blessed  saints — 

And  was  it  thou  indeed  ? 

Imo.  I  am  that  wretch— 

The  wife  of  a  most  noble,  honoured  lord— 

1  he  mother  of  a  babe  whose  smiles  do  stab  me _ 

But  thou  art  Bertram’s  still,  and  Bertram’s  ever  ! 

rint  u  “  {striking  her  heart)” 

c lot •  nath  time  no  power  upon  thy  hopeless  love  ? 
Imo.  \ea,  time  hath  power,  and  what  a  power  I’ll 
tell  thee, 

\  power  to  change  the  pulses  of  the  heart 
To  one  dull  throb  of  ceaseless  agony, 

To  hush  the  sigh  on  the  resigned  lip, 

Vnd  lock  it  in  the  heart — freeze  the  hot  tear, 

And  bid  it  on  the  eyelid  hang  for  ever — 
iuch  power  hath  time  o’er  me. 

Clot.  And  has  not  then 

l  husband’s  kindness - 

Imo.  Mark  me,  Clotilda, 
ind  mark  me  well ;  I  am  no  desperate  wretch 
yh°  borrows  an  excuse  from  shameful  passion, 
o  make  its  shame  more  vile — 
am  a  wretched,  but  a  spotless  wife, 

’ve  been  a  daughter  but  too  dutiful— 
ut  oh  !  the  writhings  of  a  generous  soul, 
tabb’d  by  a  confidence  it  can’t  return, 

o  whom  a  kind  word  is  a  blow  on  th’  heart _ 

cannot  paint  thy  wretchedness.  ( bursts  into  tears') 
Clot.  Nay,  nay, 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


16 

Dry  up  your  tears,  soon  will  your  lord  return, 

Let  hi  in  not  see  you  thus  by  passion  shaken. 

Imo.  Oh  wretched  is  the  dame,  to  whom  the  sound 
c<  Your  lord  will  soon  return”— no  pleasure  brings. 
Clot .  Some  step  approaches— ’tis  st.  Anselm  s  monk. 
Imo.  Remember— now,  what  wouldst  thou,  rever¬ 
end  father  ? 


enter  first  monk. 

Monk.  St.  Anselm’s  benison  on  you,  gracious  dame. 
Our  holy  prior  by  me  commends  him  to  you— 

The  wreck  that  struck  upon  our  rocks  1  th  storm 
Hath  thrown  some  wretched  souls  upon  his  care. 

(For  many  have  been  saved  since  morning  dawned.; 
Wherefore  he  prays  the  wonted  hospitality 
That  the  free  noble  usage  of  your  castle 
Doth  grant  to  ship-wreck’d  and  distressed  men— 

Imo .  Bear  back  my  greetings  to  your  holy  prior— 
Tell  him  the  lady  of  St.  Aldobrand 
Holds  it  no  sin,  although  her  lord  be  absent, 

To  ope  her  gates  to  wave-tossed  mariners — 

Now  Heaven  forfend  your  narrow  cells  were  cum¬ 
bered 

While  these  free  halls  stood  empty— tell  your  prior 
We  hold  the  custom  of  our  castle  still.  \exeunt 


ACT  II. 

scene  I — an  apartment  in  the  convent  the  stran¬ 
gle  lies  sleeping  on  a  couch— the  prior  watching 

him . 

Prior.  He  sleeps,  if  it  be  sleep  ;  this  starting  trance 
Whose  feverish  tossings  and  deep  muttered  groans, 

Do  prove  the  soul  shares  not  the  body’s  rest— 

( hanging  over  him ) 

How  the  lip  works,  how  the  bare  teeth  do  grind— 
And  beaded  drops  course  down  his  writhen  brow 


I 


Act  II]  BERTRAM.  17 

I  will  awake  him  from  this  horrid  trance, 

This  is  no  natural  sleep — ho,  wake  thee,  stranger  ! 
Scran.  What  wouldst  thou  have,  my  life  is  in  thy 
power — 

Prior.  Most  wretched  man,  whose  fears  alone  be¬ 
tray  thee — 

What  art  thou  ?  speak. 

Stran.  Thou  sayest  I  am  a  wretch — 

And  thou  sayest  true — these  weeds  do  witness  it — 
These  wave-worn  weeds — these  bare  and  bruised 
limbs, 

What  wouldst  thou  more — I  shrink  not  from  the  ques¬ 
tion. 

I  am  a  wretch,  and  proud  of  wretchedness, 

*Tis  the  sole  earthly  thing  that  cleaves  to  me. 

Prior.  Lightly  I  deem  of  outward  wretchedness, 
For  that  hath  been  the  lot  of  blessed  saints — 

But  in  their  dire  extreme  of  outward  wretchedness 
Full  calm  they  slept  in  dungeons  and  in  darkness — 
Such  hath  not  been  thy  sleep — 

Stran.  Didst  watch  my  sleep — 

But  thou  couldst  glean  no  secret  from  my  ravings. — 
Prior.  Thy  secrets,  wretched  man,  I  reck  not  of 
them — 

But  I  adjure  thee  by  the  church’s  power 
(A  power  to  search  man’s  secret  heart  of  sin) 

Show  me  thy  wound  of  soul — 

Weep’st  thou,  the  ties  of  nature  or  of  passion 
Torn  by  the  hand  of  Heaven  ? — 

Oh  no  !  full  well  I  deemed  no  gentler  feeling 
Woke  the  dark  lightning  of  thy  withering  eye — 
What  fiercer  spirit  is  it  tears  thee  thus  ? 

Show  me  the  horrid  tenant  of  thy  heart — 

Or  wrath,  or  hatred,  or  revenge,  is  there — 

Stran.  ( suddenly  starting  from  his  couch , u falling 
on  his  knees  and  raising  his  clasped  hands) 

I  would  consort  with  mine  eternal  enemy, 

To  be  revenged  on  him. — 

Prior.  Art  thou  a  man,  or  fiend,  who  speakest  thus? 

b  2 


18 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 

Stran.  I  was  a  man,  I  know  not  what  I  am — 
What  others’  crimes  and  injuries  have  made  me. 
Look  on  me — what  am  I  ? —{advancing) 

Prior.  I  know  thee  not. 

Stran.  I  marvel  that  thou  say’st  it 7— 

For  lowly  men  full  oft  remember  those 
In  changed  estate,  whom  equals  have  forgotten  : 

A  passing  beggar  hath  remembered  me, 

When  with  strange  eyes  my  kinsmen  looked  on  me — 
I  wore  no  sullied  weeds  on  that  proud  day 
When  thou  a  barefoot  monk  didst  bow  full  low 
For  alms  my  heedless  hand  hath  flung  to  thee  — 
Thou  dost  not  know  m z—— (approaching  him ) 
Prior.  Mine  eyes  are  dim  with  age — but  many 
thoughts 

Do  stir  within  me  at  thy  voice. 

Stran.  List  to  me,  monk,  it  is  thy  trade  to  talk, 

As  reverend  men  do  use  in  saintly  wise, 

Of  life’s  vicissitudes  and  vanities — 

Hear  one  plain  tale  that  doth  surpass  all  saws— 

Hear  it  from  me — count  Bertram — aye — count  Ber¬ 
tram — 

The  darling  of  his  liege  and  of  his  land, 

The  army’s  idol,  and  the  council’s  head — 

Whose  smile  was  fortune,  and  whose  will  was  law— 
Doth  bow  him  to  the  prior  of  St.  Anselm 
For  water  to  refresh  his  parched  lip, 

And  this  hard-matted  couch  to  fling  his  limbs  on. 
Prior.  Good  heaven  and  all  its  saints ! 

JBer.  Wilt  thou  betray  me  ? 

Prior.  Lives  there  the  wretch  beneath  these  walls 
to  do  it  ? 

Sorrow  enough  hath  bowed  thy  head  already. 

Thou  man  of  many  woes. 

Far  more  I  fear  lest  thou  betray  thyself. 

Hard  by  do  stand  the  halls  of  Aldobrand 
(Thy  mortal  enemy  and  cause  of  fall,) 

Where  ancient  custom  doth  invite  each  stranger 
Cast  on  this  shore  to  sojourn  certain  days, 


BERTRAM. 


19 


Act  II] 


And  taste  the  bounty  of  the  castle’s  lord— 

If  thou  goest  not,  suspicion  will  aiise  ; 

And  if  thou  dost  (all  changed  as  thou  art) 

Some  desperate  burst  of  passion  will  betray  thee, 
And  end  in  mortal  scathe — 

What  dost  thou  gaze  with  such  fixed  eyes  ? 

Per.  What  sayest  thou  i 
I  dreamed  I  stood  before  lord  Aldobrand 
Impenetrable  to  his  searching  eyes — 

And  I  did  feel  the  horrid  joy  men  feel 
Measuring  the  serpent’s  coil  whose  fangs  have  stung 
them  ; 

Scanning  with  giddy  eye  the  air-hung  rock 
From  which  they  leapt  and  live  by  miracle  ; 

“  Following  the  dun  skirt  of  the  o’erpast  storm 
Whose  bolt  did  leave  them  prostrate” — 

To  see  that  horrid  spectre  of  my  thoughts 
In  all  the  stern  reality  of  life — 

To  mark  the  living  lineaments  of  hatred, 

And  say  this  is  the  man  whose  sight  should  blast  me  ; 
Yet  in  calm  dreadful  triumph  still  gaze  on: 

It  is  a  horrid  joy. 

Prior.  Nay,  rave  not  thus— . 

Thou  wilt  not  meet  him,  many  a  day  must  pass 
Till  from  Palermo’s  walls  he  wend  him  homeward — 
Where  now  he  tarries  with  St.  Anselm’s  knights. 

His  dame  doth  dwell  in  solitary  wise  ; 

Few  are  the  followers  in  his  lonely  halls — 

Why  dost  thou  smile  in  that  most  horrid  guise  ? 

Per.  ( repeating  his  words)  His  dame  doth  dwell 
alone — perchance  his  child — 

Oh,  no,  no,  no — it  was  a  damned  thought. 

Prior.  I  do  but  indistinctly  hear  thy  words, 

But  feel  they  have  some  fearful  meaning  in  them — 
Per.  Oh,  that  1  could  but  mate  him  in  his  might, 
Oh,  that  we  were  on  the  dai  k  wave  together, 

With  but  one  plank  between  us  and  destruction, 
That  I  might  grasp  him  in  these  desperate  arms, 
And  plunge  with  him  amid  the  weltering  billows— 


20 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


And  view  him  gasp  for  life — and — 

“  Prior.  Horrible — horrible — I  charge  thee  cease; 
The  shrines  are  trembling  on  these  sainted  walls — 
The  stoney  forms  will  start  to  life  and  answer  thee.” 

Ber.  Ha,  ha — I  see  him  struggling — 

I  see  him — ha,  ha,  ha,  (a  frantic  laugh) 

Prior.  Oh  horrible — 

Help,  help  to  hold  him — for  my  strength  doth  fail — 

enter  1st  monk. 

Monk.  The  lady  of  St.  Aldobrand  sends  greeting — 
Prior.  Oh,  art  thou  come,  this  is  no  time  for  greet¬ 
ing— 

Help,  bear  him  off — thou  see’st  his  fearful  state. 

[exeunt ,  bearing  him  off 

scene  ii — hall  in  the  castle  of  St.  Aldobrand . 

enter  hugo  ,  shewing  in  Bertram’s  comrades ,  “Clo¬ 
tilda  following .” 

Hugo.  This  way,  friends,  this  way,  good  cheer 
awaits  you. 

1st  Sail.  Well  then,  good  cheer  was  never  yet  be¬ 
stowed 

On  those  who  need  it  more. 

Hugo.  To  what  port  bound, 

Did  this  fell  storm  o’ertake  you  ? 

1.??  Sail.  No  matter, 

So  we  find  here  a  comfortable  haven. 

Hugo.  Whence  came  you  ? 

Sail.  Psha,  I  cannot  answer  fasting. 

Hugo.  Roughness,  the  proverb  says,  speaks  hon¬ 
esty, 

I  hope  the  adage  true. 

“  Clot.  Lead  them  in,  Hugo, 

1  hey  need  speedy  care — which  is  your  leader  ? 

“1  st  Sait.  He  will  be  here  anon — what  ye  would 
know. 


BERTRAM. 


21 


Act  II] 

Demand  of  him. 

“  2d  Sail.  ( advancing )  He’s  here. 
i(  Clot.  I  fain  would  learn 
Their  country  and  their  fortunes. 

li  enter  Bertram,  with  a  sullen  air ,  but  scrutiniz¬ 
ing  all  around. 

“  Clot.  Is  that  him  P 

His  looks  appal  me,  I  dare  not  speak  to  him. 

u  ( all  pause  at  his  afi/iearance )” 
Hugo.  Come,  come,  the  feast’s  prepared  within, 
this  way. 

“  ( Bertram  passes  on  sullenly  and  exit ) 
“  Clot.  The  gt  ief  that  clothes  that  leader’s  woe- 
worn  form, 

The  chilling  awe  his  ruin’d  grandeur  wears, 

Is  of  no  common  sort — I  must  observe  him. 

[ exit  Clotilda .” 

Is?  Sail.  Now,  comrades,  we  will  honour  our  host’s 
bounty 

With  jovial  hearts,  and  gay  forgetfulness 
Of  perils  past  and  coming. 

GLEE. 

We  be  men  escaped  from  dangers. 

Sweet  to  think  of  o’er  our  bowls  ; — 

Wilds  have  ne’er  known  hardier  rangers, 

Hall  shall  ne’er  see  blither  souls.  [ exeunt 

scene  hi — moonlight  ;  a  terrassed  rampart  of  the 
castle  ;  a  part  of  the  latter  is  seen ,  the  rest  con¬ 
cealed  by  woods. 

imogine  alone  ;  she  gazes  at  the  moon  for  some 
time  and  then  advances  slowly. 

Imo.  Mine  own  loved  light, 

That  every  soft  and  solemn  spirit  worships, 

That  lovers  love  so  well  strange  joy  is  thine, 


22  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Whose  influence  o’er  all  tides  of  soul  hath  power, 
Who  lendst  thy  light  to  rapture  and  despair  ; — 

“  The  glow  of  hope  and  wan  hue  of  sick  fancy 
Alike  reflect  thy  rays :  alike  thou  lightest 
The  path  of  meeting  or  of  parting  love — 

Alike  on  mingling  or  on  breaking  hearts 
Thou  smil’st  in  throned  beauty.”  Bertram,  Bertram, 
How  sweet  it  is  to  tell  the  list’ning  night 
The  name  beloved— it  is  a  spell  of  power 
To  wake  the  buried  slumberers  of  the  heart, 

Where  memory  lingers  o’er  the  grave  of  passion 
Watching  its  tranced  sleep  ! — 

“  The  thoughts  of  other  days  are  rushing  on  me. 

The  loved,  the  lost,  the  distant,  and  the  dead, 

Are  with  me  now,  and  I  will  mingle  with  them 
Till  my  sense  fails,  and  my  raised  heart  is  wrapt 
In  secret  suspension  of  mortality.” 

enter  Clotilda. 

Clot .  Why  dost  thou  wander  by  this  mournful  light, 
Feeding  sick  fancy  with  the  thought  that  poisons? — 
Imo.  I  will  but  weep  beneath  the  moon  awhile. 
Now  do  not  chide  my  heart  for  this  sad  respite, 

“  The  thoughts  it  most  doth  love  do  visit  it  then, 

And  make  it  feel  like  heaven” — 

Clot.  Nay,  come  with  me,  and  view  those  storm- 
’scaped  men 

A-feasting  in  thy  hall ;  ’twill  cheer  thy  heart 
Of  perils  ’scaped  by  flood  and  fire  they  tell, 

And  many  an  antique  legend  wild  they  know 
And  many  a  lay  they  sing — hark,  their  deep  voices 
Come  faintly  on  the  wind. 

“  ( noise  of  singing  and  revelry  without)'* 
lmo.  Their  wild  and  vulgar  mirth  doth  startle  me. 
“  This  clamorous  wassail  in  a  baron’s  hall 
Ill  suits  the  state  of  rescued  fearful  men  : — ” 

But  as  I  passed  the  latticed  gallery 

One  stood  alone  ;  I  marked  him  where  he  stood. 

His  face  was  veiled,— faintly  a  light  fell  on  him  ; 


BERTRAM. 


Act  II] 


23 


But  through  soiled  weeds  his  muffled  form  did  show 
A  wild  and  terrible  grandeur. 

Clot.  I  marked  him  too.  He  mixed  not  with  the 
rest, 

But  o’er  his  wild  mates  held  a  stern  control — 

Their  rudest  burst  of  riotous  merriment 
Beneath  his  dark  eye’s  stilling  energy 
Was  hushed  to  silence. 

Imo.  He  never  spoke  ? 

Clot.  No,  he  did  nought  but  sigh, 

If  I  might  judge  by  the  high-heaving  vesture 
Folded  so  deep  on  his  majestic  breast ; — 

Of  sound  I  heard  not — ” 

Imo.  Call  him  hither. — 

There  is  a  mystery  of  woe  about  him 
That  strongly  stirs  the  fancy. 

Clot.  Wilt  thou  confer  alone,  at  night,  with  one 
Who  bears  such  fearful  form  ? 

Imo.  Why  therefore  send  him — 

All  things  of  fear  have  lost  their  power  o’er  me — 

[exit  Clotilda 


imogine  afifiears  to  be  debating  with  herself  how 
to  receive  him ,  at  length  she  says , 

Imo.  If  he  do  bear,  like  me,  a  withered  heart. 

I  will  not  mock  him  with  a  sound  of  comfort — 

Bertram  enters  slowly  from  the  end  of  the  stage  ; 
his  arms  folded ,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  earth  ;  she 
does  not  know  him. 

Imo .  A  form  like  that  hath  broken  on  my  dreams, 
So  darkly  wild,  so  proudly  stern  ; 

Doth  it  rise  on  me  waking  ? 

Bertram  comes  to  the  end  of  the  stage ,  and  stands 
without  looking  at  her. 

Imo.  Stranger,  I  sent  for  thee,  for  that  I  deemed 


24  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Some  wound  was  thine,  that  yon  free  band  might 
chafe, — 

Perchance  thy  worldly  wealth  sunk  with  yon  wreck  ; 
Such  wound  my  gold  can  heal — the  castle’s  almoner— 
Ber.  The  wealth  of  world>  were  heaped  on  me  in 
vain. 

Imo.  Oh  then  I  read  thy  loss — thy  heart  is  sunk 
In  the  dark  waters  pitiless  ;  soipe  dear  friend. 

Or  brother,  loved  as  thine  own  soul,  lies  there— 

“  1  pity  thee,  sad  man,  but  can  no  more—” 

Gold  1  can  give,  but  can  no  comfort  give, 

For  I  am  comfortless — 

“  Yet  if  I  could  collect  my  faltering  breath 
Well  were  I  meet  for  such  sad  ministry, 

For  grief  hath  left  my  voice  no  other  sound — ” 

Ber.  ( striking  his  heart')  No  dews  give  freshness 
to  this  blasted  soil — 

Imo.  Strange  is  thy  form,  but  more  thy  words  are 
strange — 

Fearful  it  seems  to  hold  this  parley  with  thee. 

Tell  me  thy  race  and  country — 

Ber.  What  avails  it? 

The  wretched  have  no  country  :  that  dear  name 
Comprises  home,  kind  kindred,  fostering  friends, 
Protecting  laws,  ail  that  binds  man  to  man — 

But  none  of  these  are  mine  ; — 1  have  no  country — 
And  for  my  race,  the  last  dread  trump  shall  wake 
The  sheeted  relics  of  mine  ancestry, 

Ere  trump  of  herald  to  the  armed  lists 
3n  the  bright  blazon  of  their  stainless  coat, 

Calls  their  lost  child  again — 

Imo  1  shake  to  hear  him — 

There  is  an  awful  thrilling  in  his  voice — 

“  The  soul  of  other  days  comes  rushing  in  them.—” 
If  nor  my  bounty  nor  my  tears  can  aid  thee, 

Stranger,  farewell ;  and  ’mid  thy  misery 
Pray,  when  thou  tell’st  thy  beads,  for  one  more 
wretched. 


Act  II]  BERTRAM.  25 

Ber.  Stay,  gentle  lady,  I  wesild  somewhat  with 
thee. 

( Imogine  retreats  terrified) 

{detaining  her)—' Thou  shall  not  go - 

Imo.  Shalt  not ! — Who  art  thou  ?  speak— 

Ber .  And  must  I  speak  ? 

There  was  a  voice  which  all  the  world,  but  thee, 
Might  have  forgot,  and  been  forgiven. 

Imo.  My  senses  blaze— between  the  dead  and  liv- 

I  stand  in  fear — oh  God  !— it  cannot  be _  [ing 

Those  thick  black  locks — those  wild  and  sunburnt 
features - 

He  looked  not  thus — but  then  that  voice _ 

It  cannot  be — for  he  would  know  my  name 

Ber.  Imogine — ( she  has  tottered  toward >  him  dur¬ 
ing  the  last  speech ,  and  when  he  utters  her  name , 
shrieks  and  falls  into  his  arms) 

Ber.  Imogine — yes, 

Thus  pale,  cold,  dying,  thus  thou  art  most  fit 
To  be  enfolded  to  this  desolate  heart— 

A  blighted  lily  on  its  icy  bed— 

Nay,  look  not  up,  ’tis  thus  I  would  behold  thee, 

That  pale  cheek  looks  like  truth— I’ll  gaze  no  more— 
That  fail ,  that  pale,  dear  cheek,  these  helpless  arms. 
If  I  look  longer  they  will  make  me  human. 

Imo.  {starting  from  him)  Fly,  fly,  the  vassals  of 
thine  enemy  wait 
To  do  thee  dead. 

Ber.  Then  let  them  wield  the  thunder, 

Fell  is  their  dint,  who’re  mailed  in  despair. 

I  Let  mortal  might  sever  the  grasp  of  Bertram. 

Imo.  Release  me— I  must  break  from  him— he 
knows  not— 

Oh  God  ! 

Ber.  Imogine — madness  seizes  me _ 

Why  do  I  find  thee  in  mine  enemy’s  walls  ? 

What  dost  thou  in  the  halls  of  Aldobrand  ? 

Infernal  light  doth  shoot  athwart  my  mind— 

C 


26 


BERTRAM. 


[JVIaturin 


Swear  thou  art  a  dependent  on  his  bounty, 

That  chance,  or  force,  or  sorcery  brought  thee  hither; 
Thou  canst  not  be — tny  throat  is  swoln  with  agony — 
Hell  hath  no  plague — Oh  no,  thou  couldst  not  do  it. 
lino.  “  (kneeling)”  Mercy. 

Ber.  Thou  hast  it  not,  or  thou  wouldst  speak — 
Speak,  speak — (with  frantic  violence) 
lino.  I  am  the  wife  of  Aldobrand,— 

To  save  a  famishing  father  did  I  wed, 

Ber.  I  will  not  curse  her — but  the  hoarded  ven¬ 
geance — — 

Imo.  Aye — curse,  and  consummate  the  horrid 
spell. 

For  broken-hearted,  in  despairing  hour, 

With  every  omen  dark  and  dire  I  wedded — 

Some  ministring  demon  mocked  the  robed  priest. 
With  some  dark  spell,  not  holy  vow,  they  bound  me, 
Full  were  the  rites  of  horror  and  despair. 

They  wanted  but — the  seal  of  Bertram’s  curse. 

Ber.  (not  heeding  her) — Talk  of  her  father — could 
a  father  love  thee 

As  I  have  loved  ?  “ — the  veriest  wretch  on  earth 
Doth  cherish  in  some  corner  of  his  heart 
Some  thought  that  makes  that  heart  a  sanctuary 
For  pilgrim  dreams  in  midnight-hour  to  visit, 

And  weep  and  worship  there. 

— And  such  thou  wert  to  me — and  thou  art  lost. 
—-What  was  a  father  ?  could  a  father’s  love 
Compare  with  mine?”  in  want,  and  war,  and  peril, 
Things  that  would  thrill  the  hearers  blood  to  tell  of, 
My  heart  grew  human  when  I  thought  of  thee — 
Imogine  would  have  shuddered  for  my  danger — 

Imogine  would  have  bound  my  leechless  wounds . — 

Imogine  would  have  sought  my  nameless  corse, 

And  known  it  well — and  she  was  wedded — wedded — 
— Was  there  no  name  in  hell’s  dark  catalogue 
To  brand  thee  with,  but  mine  immortal  foe’s?—* 


BERTRAM. 


Act  II] 


27 


And  did  I  ’scape  from  war,  and  want,  and  famine. 
To  perish  by  the  falsehood  of  a  woman  ? 

Imo.  Oh  spare  me,  Bertram  ;  oh  preserve  thyself. 
Ber.  A  despot’s  vengeance,  a  false  country’s 
curses, 

The  spurn  of  menials  whom  this  hand  had  fed— 

In  my  heart’s  steeled  pride  I  shook  them  off, 

As  the  bayed  lion  from  his  hurtless  hide 
Shakes  his  pursuer’s  darts — across  their  path— 
One  dart  alone  took  aim,  thy  hand  did  barb  it. 

Imo.  He  did  not  hear  my  father’s  cry — O  heaven — 
Nor  food,  nor  fire,  nor  raiment,  and  his  child 
Knelt  madly  to  the  hungry  walls  for  succour, 

E’er  her  wrought  brain  could  bear  the  horrid  thought, 
Or  wed  with  him — or — see  thy  father  perish. 

Ber.  Thou  tremblest  test  I  curse  thee,  tremble 
not - 

Though  thou  has  made  me,  woman,  very  wretched — 
Though  thou  hast  made  me — but  I  will  not  curse 
thee— 

Hear  the  last  prayer  of  Bertram’s  broken  heart, 

That  heart  which  thou  hast  broken,  not  his  foes  ! - - 

Of  thy  rank  wishes  the  full  scope  be  on  thee — 

May  pomp  and  pride  shout  in  thine  addered  path 
Till  thou  shalt  feel  and  sicken  at  their  hollowness — 
May  he  thou’st  wed,  be  kind  and  generous  to  thee, 
Till  thy  wrung  heart,  stabb’d  by  his  noble  fondness, 
Writhe  in  detesting  consciousness  of  falsehood — 

May  thy  babe’s  smile  speak  daggers  to  that  mother 
Who  cannot  love  the  father  of  her  child, 

And  in  the  bright  blaze  of  the  festal  hall, 

When  vassals  kneel,  and  kindred  smile  around  thee, 
May  ruined  Bertram’s  pledge  hiss  in  thine  ear— 
Joy  to  the  proud  dame  of  St.  Aldobrand — 

While  his  cold  corse  doth  bleach  beneath  her  towers. 
Imo.  ( detaining  him )  Stay. 

Ber.  No. 

Imo.  Thou  hast  a  dagger. 

Ber.  Not  for  woman. 


23  BERTRAM.  ^Maturin 

Imo.  ( flinging  herself  on  the  ground )  It  was  my 
prayer  to  die  in  Bertram’s  presence, 

But  not.  by  words  like  these - 

Ber.  ( turning  back )  On  the  cold  earth  ! 

—I  do  forgive  thee  from  my  inmost  soul—.— 

{the  child  of  Imo  gin  e  rushes  in  and  clings  to  her) 
Child .  Mother. 

Ber.  {eagerly  snatching  ufi  the  child)  God  bless 
thee,  child — Bertram  hath  kissed  thy  child. 
{he  rushes  out.  “  Clotilda  enters  gazing  after  him 
in  terror ,  and  goes  to  afford  relief  to  Imogine ” — 
the  curtain  drafts) 


ACT  III. 


Scene  i — a  wood — the  stage  darkened — St.  Aldo - 
brand  sfteaking  to  a  ftage  behind  the  scenes. 

Aid.  Hold  thou  my  good  steed,  page  ;  the  moon  is 
down, 

We’ve  far  outstript  the  knights,  but  slacker  speed 
Hath  found  a  surer  road — where,  think’st  thou,  are 
we  ? 

enter  st.  aldobrand  and  a  page. 

Vainly  I  listen  through  the  night  so  still 
For  bell  that  tells  of  holy  convent  near, 

“Or  warder’s  bugle  from  the  battlement, 

Or  horn  of  knight  returning  from  the  chase — ” 

All  is  dark,  still,  and  lorn;  where  deemest  thou  are 
we  ? 

Page  Oh  we  are  nigh  a  fell  and  fearful  spot, 

For  by  the  last  gleams  of  the  sunken  moon 

I  saw  the  towers  . 

Aid  What  towers  are  those,  boy? 

Page.  The  ruined  towers  that  ’tis  said  are  haunted; 


BERTRAM. 


29 


Act  III] 


*{  Dimly  they  rose  amid  the  doubtful  gloom, 

But  notone  star-beam  twinkled  on  their  summits.” 
Alcl.  Then,  not  four  Teagues  divide  me'  from  mine 
home. 

Mine  home — it  is  a  pleasant  sound — there  bide 
My  dame  and  child — all  pleasant  thoughts  dwell 
there — 

“  Then,  while  I  rest  beneath  this  broad-armed  tree, 
Or  oak,  or  elm,  in  this  dark  night  I  wot  not  — 

It  shall  be  thy  sweet  penance  to  rehearse 

All  thou  hast  heard  of  these  most  fearful  towers — 

The  tale  will  soothe  my  sleep,  nor  mar  my  dreams. 

“  Page.  Then  let  me  couch  by  thee — I  pray  thee 
do— 

For  ever  I  love  ’mid  frightful  tales  i’th’  dark 
To  touch  the  hand  1  tell  the  tale  of  fear  to — ” 

(a  bell  tolls') 

Aid.  Hark  !  ’tis  the  convent  bell,  “forego  thy  tale 
The  blessed  thoughts  of  home  are  in  that  sound 

That  near  my  castle’s  gallant  walls  doth  float - 

(i chorus  of  knights  heard  faintly  from  the  forest.) 
Aid.  What  \oices  swell  upon  the  midnight  air? 
Page  St.  Anselm’s  knights. 

Aid.  Yes,  ’tis  their  pious  wont, 

When  journeying  near  the  sound  of  convent-bell 
’Mid  flood  or  fire,  to  raise  the  holy  hymn 

That  chaunts  the  praise  of  their  protecting  saint - - 

List  to. the  solemn  harmony— 

Guided  by  that  we  may  rejoin  their  company. 

[ exeunt 

{chorus  heard  again ,  and  continues  drawing  nearer 
till  the  scene  closes) 


scene  ii — the  convent — the  prior  reading — Ber¬ 
tram  views  him  with  the  attention  of  one  who 
envies  him ,  then  speaks. 

Per.  How  many  hours  have  passed  since  matin- 
bell  ? 

Prior.  I  know  not  till  it  sound  again  to  vespers. 
Time  passes  o’er  us  with  a  noiseless  lapse  : 

c  2 


30  BERTH  AiW.  [Maturin 

Our  hours  are  marked  alone  by  prayer  and  study, 
And  know  no  change  but  by  their  mute  succession — 
Ber.  Yea — thus  they  live,  if  this  may  life  be  called 
Where  moving  shadows  mock  the  parts  of  men. 

Prayer  follows  study,  study  yields  to  prayer - - 

Bell  echoes  bell,  till  wearied  with  the  summons 
The  ear  doth  ache  for  that  last  welcome  peal 
That  tolls  an  end  to  listless  vacancy — 

“  Aye — when  the  red  swol’n  stream  comes  roaring 
down- - 

Full  many  a  glorious  flower,  and  stately  tree, 

Floats  on  the  ruthless  tide,  whose  unfelt  sway 
Moves  not  the  mire  that  stagnates  at  the  bottom.’* 
The  storm  for  Bertram — and  it  hath  been  with  me. 
Dealt  with  me  branch  and  bole,  bared  me  to  th’  roots, 
And  where  the  next  wave  bears  my  perished  trunk 
In  its  dread  lapse,  I  neither  know  nor  reck  of— 
Prior.  Thou  desperate  man,  whom  mercy  wooes 
in  vain, 

Although  with  miracles  she  pleads  — 

Forbear,  I  say,  to  taint  these  holy  echoes 
With  the  fell  sounds  of  thy  profane  despair — 

Ber.  Good  monk,  I  am  beholden  to  your  patience. 
Take  this  from  one,  whose  lips  do  mock  at  praise  ; 
Thou  art  a  man  whose  mild  and  reverend  functions 
“  Might  change  the  black  creed  of  misanthropy, 

And”  bid  my  better  angel  half  return.- - 

But — ’tis  impossible — “  I  will  not  trouble  thee*—” 
The  wayward  Bertram  and  his  moody  mates 
Are  tenants  all  unmeet  for  cloistered  walls— 

We  will  find  fitter  home. 

Prior.  Whither  wilt  thou  resort  ? 

Ber.  Is  there  no  forest 
Whose  shades  are  dark  enough  to  shelter  us, 

Or  cavern  rifted  by  the  perilous  lightning, 

Where  we  must  grapple  with  the  tenanting  wolf 
To  earn  our  bloody  lair  ? — there  let  us  bide, 

Nor  hear  the  voice  of  man,  nor  call  of  heaven. 


Act  III]  BERTRAM.  31 

Prior.  Wend  not,  I  charge  thee,  with  those  des¬ 
perate  men. 

Full  well  I  wot  who  are  thy  fearful  mates  - 
In  their  stern  strife  with  the  incensed  deep, 

That  dashed  them  bruised  and  breathless  on  our 
shores, 

When  their  drenched  hold  forsook  both  gold  and  geer, 
They  griped  their  daggers  with  a  murderer’s  instinct. 
— I  read  thee  for  a  leader  of  a  band 
Whose  trade  is  blood. — 

Ber  Well,  then,  thou  knowest  the  worst - 

“  And  let  the  worst  be  known.”  I  am  their  leader — 
Prior.  Mark  what  I  read,  renounce  that  horrid 
league - 

Flee  to  the  castle  of  St.  Aldobrand, 

1  His  power  may  give  thee  safety,  and  his  dame 
May  plead  for  thee  against  the  law’s  stern  purpose — 
All  as  thou  art  unknown 

Ber.  His  dame  plead  for  me  ! - 

When  my  cold  corse,  torn  from  some  felon  wheel, 

Or  dug  from  lightless  depth  of  stoney  dungeon, 
Welters  in  the  cold  gaze  of  pitiless  strangers, 

Then  flin‘g  it  at  his  gate,  whose  cursed  stones 
My  living  foot  treads  never, — yet  beware 
Lest  the  corse  burst  its  cearments  stark  and  curse 
thee— 

Prior.  Hush,  hush  these  horrid  sounds  ;  where 
wilt  thou  bide  ? 

Near  us  nor  knight  nor  barron  holds  his  keep, 

For  far  and  wide  thy  foeman’s  land  extends. 

Ber.  The  world  hath  ample  realms  beyond  his 
power. 

There  must  I  dwell — I  seek  my  rugged  mates — ” 
The  frozen  mountain  or  the  burning  sand 
Would  be  more  wholesome  than  the  fertile  realm 
That’s  lorded  o’er  by  Aldobrand.  ( exit  Bertram 
Prior.  “High-hearted  man,  sublime  even  in  thy 
guilt, 


BERTRAM. 


32 


[Maturin 


Whose  passions  are  thy  crimes,  whose  angel  sin 
Is  pride  that  rivals  the  star-bright  apostate’s.” 
Wild  admiration  thrills  me  to  behold 
An  evil  strength,  so  above  earthly  pitch— 
Descending  angels  only  could  reclaim  thee— 

enter  2 d  monk. 


Monk.  The  lady  of  St.  Aldobrand  in  haste 
Craves  swift  admittance  to  your  sacred  cell. 

Prior .  She  is  a  gracious  and  a  pious  dame, 

And  doth  our  cell  much  honour  by  her  presence. 

enter  imogine—  she  kneels  to  him. 

Prior.  The  blessings  of  these  sainted  walls  be  on 
thee  ! 

Why  art  thou  thus  disturbed,  what  moves  thee, 
daughter  ? 

Imo.  Nay,  do  not  raise  me  with  those  reverend 
hands, 

“  Nor  benison  of  saint  greet  mine  approach, 

Nor  shadow  of  holy  hand  stretch’d  forth  to  bless 
me.” 

I  am  a  wretched,  soul-struck,  guilty  woman. 

Prior.  Thou  dost  amaze  me  ;  by  mine  holy  order 
I  deemed  no  legends  of  our  cloistered  saints 
Held  holier  records  of  pure  sanctity 
Than  the  clear  answer  of  thy  stainless  life 
To  shrift’s  most  piercing  search  — 

Imo.  Oh  holy  prior,  no  matron  proud  and  pure 
“  Whose  dreams  ne’er  wandered  from  her  wedded 
lord, 

Whose  spoused  heart  was  plighted  with  her  hand,” 
Kneels  for  thy  prayer  of  power — 1  am  a  wretch, 
“Who,  pale  and  withering  with  unholy  love, 

Lay  a  shrunk  corse  in  duty’s  fostering  arms, 

And  with  cold  smiles  belied  her  heart’s  despair.” 

I’ve  nursed  a  slumbering  serpent  till  it  stung  me, 

And  from  my  heait’s  true  guardian  hid  its  foulness. 
Prior.  Thou’st  done  an  evil  deed - - 


BERTRAM. 


3S 


Act  III] 

For  sin  is  of  the  soul,  and  thine  is  tainted  — - 
But  most  I  blame  thee,  that  from  thy  soui’s  guardian 
Thou  hiddest  thy  secret  guilt. 

Imo.  I  knew  it  not - 

Last  night,  oh  !  last  night  told  a  dreadful  secret— 
The  moon  went  down,  its  sinking  ray  shut  out 
The  parting  form  of  one  beloved  too  well. 

*‘The  fountain  of  my  heart  dried  up  within  me, — ” 
With  nought  that  loved  me,  and  with  nought  to  love, 

I  stood  upon  the  desert  earth  alone . - 

“  I  stood  and  wondered  at  my  desolation  — 

For  l  had  spurned  at  every  tie  for  him, 

And  hardly  could  I  beg  from  injured  hearts 
The  kindness  that  my  desperate  passion  scorned — ” 
And  in  that  deep  and  utter  agony, 

Though  then,  than  ever  most  unfit  to  die, 

I  fell  upon  my  knees,  and  prayed  for  death. 

Prior.  u  And  did  deserve  it,  wert  thou  meet  for 
Art  thou  a  wife  and  mother,  and  canst  speak  [it — ” 

Of  life  rejected  by  thy  desperate  passion - 

These  bursting  tears,  wrung  hands,  and  burning 
words, 

Are  these  the  signs  of  penitence  or  passion  ? 

Thou  comest  to  me,  for  to  my  ear  alone 
May  the  deep  secret  of  thy  heart  be  told, 

And  fancy  riot  in  the  luscious  poison — — 

Fond  of  the  misery  we  paint  so  well, 

Proud  of  the  sacrifice  of  broken  hearts, 

We  pour  on  heaven’s  dread  ear,  what  man’s  would 
shrink  from  ■  — 

Yea,  make  a  merit  of  the  impious  insult, 

And  wrest  the  functions  of  mine  holy  office 
To  the  foul  ministry  of  earthly  passion. 

Imo.  Why  came  I  here,  I  had  despair  at  home, 
WThere  shall  the  wretch  resort  whom  Heaven  for-* 
sakes  ? 

Prior .  Thou  hast  forsaken  Heaven. 

Speed  to  thy  castle,  shut  thy  chamber  door, 

Bind  fast  thy  soul  by  every  solemn  vow 


34 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


Never  to  hold  communion  with  that  object— 

“  If  still  thy  wishes  contradict  thy  prayers,” 

If  still  thy  heart’s  responses  yield  no  harmony- 
Weary  thy  saint  with  agonies  of  prayer  ; 

On  the  cold  marble  que'hch  thy  burning  breast  ; 
Number  with  every  bead  a  tear  of  soul ; 

Press  to  thy  heart  a  cross,  and  bid  it  banish 
The  form  that  would  usurp  its  image  there— 

Imo.  ( kneeling )  One  parting  word— 

Prior .  No,  not  one  parting  look - 

One  parting  thought,  I  charge  thee  on  thy  soul. 

Imo.  ( turning  away)  He  never  loved,— 

Prior.  Why  clingest  thou  to  my  raiment  ? 

Thy  grasp  of  grief  is  stronger  on  my  heart— 

“  For  sterner  oft  our  words  than  feelings  are.” 

enter  1st  monk  and  page. 

Monk.  Hail,  holy  prior,  and  hail,  thou  noble  dame, 
With  joyful  heart  I  break  upon  your  privacy  — 

St.  Aldobrand before  his  own  good  gates 

Doth  rein  his  war-steed’s  pride ;  the  warder’s  horn 

Full  merrily  rings  his  peal  of  welcome  home — 

I  hied  me  onward  with  the  joyful  tidings 
To  greet  his  happy  dame. 

Imo.  My  thanks  await  them - 

Prior.  Now,  by  my  beads  the  news  is  wond’rous 
welcome — — 

Hath  thy  brave  lord  in  safety  reached  his  home— 

“  Praise  to  St.  Anselm  who  ne’er  leaves  his  servants. 
My  rosary  hath  been  well  told  for  him—” 

(Clear  thy  dimmed  brow,  for  shame  !  hie  to  thy  lot’d. 
And  show  a  dame’s  true  duty  in  his  welcome,) 

Came  with  thy  lord  the  knights  of  good  St.  Anselm, 
Bearing  the  banner  of  their  guardian  saint 
Safe  from  the  infidel  scathe  l 


BERTRAM. 


35 


Act  III] 

Page.  They  come  with  speed - 

Though  lated  in  the  forest’s  wildering  maze  ; 

Last  night  their  shelter  was  the  broad  brown  oak—— 
Prior.  High  praise  be  given — haste,  summon  all 
our  brethren  ; 

Th*  occasion,  noble  dame,  doth  call  me  from  thee — 

So  benedicite -  [ exeunt 

Imo.  {alone)  That  word  should  mean — 

A  blessing  rest  on  me — I  am  not  blest — 

“  I’m  weary  of  this  conflict  of  the  heart — 

These  dying  struggles  of  reluctant  duty — 

These  potent  throes  of  wild  convulsive  passion.” 
Would  I  were  seared  in  guilt,  or  strong  in  innocence! 
!  I  dare  not  search  my  heart :  some  iron  vow 
Shall  bind  me  down  in  passive  wretchedness, 

And  mock  the  force  of  my  rebellious  heart 
“  To  break  its  rivetting  holds - 

“  as  she  kneels ,”  enter  Bertram. 

Ha  ?  art  thou  there  ? - 

Come  kneel  with  me,  and  witness  to  the  vow 
!  I  offer  to  renounce  thee,  and  to  die-  ■  - 

Per.  Nay,  it  is  meet  that  we  renounce  each  other— 
Have  we  not  been  a  miserable  pair  ? 
i  Hath  not  our  fatal  passion  cursed,  not  blessed  us  ? 
i  Had  we  not  loved  how  different  were  our  fates  j 
i  For  thou  hadst  been  a  happy  honoured  dame. 

And  I  had  slept  the  sleep  of  those  that  dream  not — 
But  life  was  dear,  while  Imogine  did  love. 

Imo.  Witness  my  vow — while  I  have  breath  to 
speak  it — 

Per.  Then  make  it  thus — why  dost  thou  shrink 
from  me  ? 

Despair  hath  its  embrace  as  well  as  passion — 

May  I  not  hold  thee  in  these  folded  arms  ? 

May  I  not  clasp  thee  to  this  blasted  heart  ? 

When  the  rich  soil  teemed  with  youth’s  generous 
flowers — 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturia 


35 

I  felt  thee  sunshine-now  thy  rayless  light 
Falls  like  the  cold  moon  on  a  blasted  heath, 

Mocking  its  desolation — speak  thy  vow — 

1  will  not  chide  thee  if  the  word  should  kill  me— 

Imo.  ( sinking  into  his  arms )  I  cannot  utter  it — 
Ber.  Have  we  not  loved,  as  none  have  ever  loved, 
And  must  we  part  as  none  have  ever  parted  ? 

I  know  thy  lord  is  near  ;  I  know  his  towers 
Must  shut  thee  from  my  sight — the  curfew-hour 
Will  send  me  on  a  far  and  fearful  journey — 

Give  me  one  hour,  nor  think  thou  givest  too  much, 
When  grief  is  all  the  boon. — 

Imo.  One  hour  to  thee  ? 

Ber.  When  the  cold  moon  gleams  on  thy  castle 
walls, 

Wilt  thou  not  seek  the  spot  where  last  we  met  i 
That  be  our  parting  spot — Oh  Imogine — 

Heaven,  that  denies  the  luxury  of  bliss, 

Shall  yield  at  least  the  luxury  of  anguish, 

And  teach  us  the  stern  pride  of  wretched  ess— 

“  Our  parting  hour  be  at  the  dim  moonlight, 

And  we  will  make  that  hour  of  parting  dearer 
Than  years  of  happy  love — what  recollection — 
What  rich  and  burning  tears — in  that  blessed  hour 
Our  former  hearts  shall  glide  into  our  breasts, 

Mine  free  from  care,  as  thine  was  light  of  sorrow — n 
That  hour  shall  light  my  parting  step  of  darkness— 
Imogine’s  form  did  gleam  on  my  last  glance, 
Jmogine’s  breath  did  mix  with  my  last  sigh, 

Imogine’s  tear  doth  linger  on  my  cheek, 

But  ne’er  must  dew  my  grave — 

Imo.  I  am  desperate 

To  say  I’ll  meet  thee,  but  I  will,  will  meet  thee  ; 

No  future  hour  can  rend  my  heart  like  this, 

Save  that  which  breaks  it. — 

the  child  runs  in,  and  clings  to  imogine. 

Child.  My  father  is  returned,  “  and  kissed  and 
blessed  me - ” 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  37 

Imo.  ( falling  on  the  child's  neck )  What  have  I 
done,  my  child ;  forgive  thy  mother. 

Bcr.  ( surveying  her  ‘with  stern  contempt )  Wo¬ 
man,  oh  woman,  and  an  urchin’s  kiss 

Rends  from  thy  heart  thy  love  of  many  years— . . 

Go,  virtuous  dame,  to  thy  most  happy  lord, 

And  Bertram’s  image  taint  your  kiss  with  poison. 

[exit  Bertram. 

Imo.  {alone)  ’Tis  but  the  last — and  I  have  sworn 
to  meet  him, 

My  boy,  my  boy,  thy  image  will  protect  me. 


ACT  IV. 


scene  i — a  dark  night  under  the  castle  walls — Ber¬ 
tram  appears  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  agi  aiion 
— he  extends  his  arms  towards  a  spot  where  the 
moon  has  disappeared. 

Bcr.  Thou  hidest  away  thy  face,  and  wilt  not  view 
me. 

All  the  bright  lights  of  heaven  are  dark  above  me— 
Beneath  the  black  cope  of  this  starless  night 
There  lurks  no  darker  soul — 

My  fiend-like  glory  hath  departed  from  me — 
Bertram  hath  nought  above  the  meanest  losel 
I  should  have  bearded  him  in  halls  of  pride — 

I  should  have  mated  him  in  fields  of  death— 

Not  stol’n  upon  his  secret  bower  of  peace, 

And  breathed  a  serpent’s  venom  on  his  flower. 

( he  looks  up  at  the  casement  of  the  tower ,  at  which  a 
light  appears ,  he  gazes  on  it — She  is  there 
She  weeps- — no  husband  wipes  her  tears  away — 

She  weeps — no  babe  doth  cheer  the  guilty  mother. 
Aldobrand — no — I  never  will  forgive  thee, 

For  I  am  sunk  beneath  thee — who  art  thou? 

D 


38 


BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

enter  two  of  Bertram's  band. 

1st  Bob.  Why  dost  thou  wander  in  the  woods  alone, 
Leaving  thy  mates  to  play  with  idle  hilts, 

O'  dream  with  monks  o’er  rosary  and  relic  ? 

G;ve  us  a  deed  to  do. 

Ber.  u  Yes,  ye  are  welcome, 

Y  of  spirits  shall  be  proud — ho” — hear  ye,  villains, 

]  k  now  ye  both — ye  are  slaves,  that  for  a  ducat 

W  iuld  rend  the  screaming  infant  from  the  breast 
To  plunge  it  in  the  flames  ; 

Yea,  draw  your  keen  knives  cross  a  father’s  throat, 
And  carve  with  them  the  bloody  meal  ye  earned ; 

V  llains,  rejoice, your  leader’s  crimeshave  purged  you, 
You  punished  guilt — I  preyed  on  innocence — 

Ytr  have  beheld  me  tallen — begone — begone. 

Is*  Rob.  Why  then,  Heaven’s  benison  be  with  you, 
Thnu’lt  need  it  if  thou  tarriest  longer  here. 

Ber.  How,  slave,  what  fear  you  ? 

2d  Rob.  Fly  ;  this  broad  land  hath  not  one  spot  to 
hide  thee. 

Danger  and  death  await  thee  in  those  walls. 

Ber.  They’d  fell  a  blasted  tree — well — let  it  fall — 
But,  though  the  perished  trunk  feel  not  the  wound. 
Woe  to  the  smiting  hand — its  fall  may  crush  him. 

1st  Rob.  Lord  Aldobrand 
Holds  high  commission  from  his  sovereign  liege 
To  hunt  thy  outlaw’d  life  through  Sicily. 

Ber.  ( wildly )  Who — what — 

2d  Rob.  We  mingled  with  the  men  at  arms 
“  As  journeying  home.”  Their  talk  was  of  count 
Bertram, 

Whose  vessel  had  from  Manfredonia’s  coast 
Been  traced  towards  this  realm. 

Is;  Rob.  And  if  on  earth  his  living  form  were  found. 
Lord  AuiobranU  had  power  to  seal  his  doom. 

♦‘Some  few  did  pity  him.” 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  39 

Ber.  (i bursting  into  ferocity)  Villain,  abhorred 
villain. 

Hath  he  not  pushed  me  to  extremity  ? 

Are  these  wild  weeds,  these  scarred  and  scathed 
limbs, 

This  wasted  frame,  a  mark  for  human  malice  ? 
There  have  been  those  who  from  the  high  bark’s  side 
Have  whelmed  their  enemy  in  the  flashing  deep  ; 

But  who  hath  watch’d  to  see  his  struggling  hands, 

To  hear  the  sob  of  death  ? — Fool — ideot — ideot — 
’Twas  but  e’en  now,  1  would  have  knelt  to  him 
With  the  prostration  of  a  conscious  villain  ; 

I  would  have  crouched  beneath  his  spurning  feet ; 

I  would  have  felt  their  trampling  tread  and  blessed 

For  I  had  injured  him — and  mutual  injury 
Had  freed  my  withered  heart — Villain — 1  thank  thee. 
“  1st  Rob.  What  wilt  thou  do  ?  shall  we  prepare 
for  blows  ? 

a  Ber.  Behold  me.  Earth,  what  is  the  life  he  hunts 
for  ? 

Come  to  my  cave,  thou  human  hunter,  come  ; 

For  thou  hast  left  thy  prey  no  other  lair 
But  the  bleak  rock  or  howling  wilderness  ; 

Cheer  up  thy  pack  of  fanged  and  fleshed  hounds, 
Flash  ail  the  flames  of  hell  upon  its  darkness, 

Then  enter  if  thou  darest. 

Lo,  there  the  crushed  serpent  coils  to  sting  thee, 

Yea,  spend  his  life  upon  the  mortal  throe.” 

1st  Rob.  Wilt  thou  fly  ? 

Ber.  Never — on  this  spot  I  stand 
The  champion  of  despair — this  arm  my  brand — 

This  breast  my  panoply — and  for  my  gage — 

(Oh  thou  hast  reft  from  me  all  knightly  pledge) 

Take  these  black  hairs  torn  from  a  head  that  hates 
thee — 

Deep  be  their  dye  before  that  pledge  is  ransomed — 


40  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

In  thine  heart’s  blood  or  mine — why  stri  vest  thou  with 
^  me  ?  (wild  with  passion) 

Lord  Aldobrandvl  brave  thee  in  th?  halls, 

Wrecked,  famished,  wrung  in  heart,  and  worn  in 
limb— • 

For  bread  ot  thine  this  lip  hath  never  stained — 

I  bid  thee  to  the  conflic1—  ay,  come  on — 

Coward — hast  armed  thy  vassals? — come  then  all — 
Follow — ye  shall  have  work  enough— follow, 

[i exeunt 

SCENE  II — imogine  “  in  her  apartment**— a  lamp, 
burning  on  the  table — she  walks  some  time  in  great 
agitation ,  and  then  pushes  the  light  away . 

Imo.  Away,  thou  glarest  on  me,  thy  light  is  hateful  ; 
Whom  doth  the  dark  wind  chide  so  hollowly  ? 

The  very  stones  shrink  from  my  steps  of  guilt, 

All  lifeless  things  have  come  to  life  to  curse  me  : 

«  ()h  !  that  a  mountain’s  weight  were  cast  on  me; 
Oh  !  that  the  wide,  wild  ocean  heaved  o’er  me ; 

Oh  !  that  I  could  into  the  earthly  centre 
Sink  and  be  nothing. 

Sense,  memory,  feeling,  life  extinct  and  swallowed. 
With  things  that  are  not,  or  have  never  been, 

Lie  down  and  sleep  the  everlasting  sleep — 

( she  sinks  on  the  ground)* 
If  I  run  mad,  some  wild  word  will  betray  me, 

Nay — let  me  think — what  am  I? — no,  what  was  I  ? 

'•  _  ( a  long  pause ) 

I  was  the  honoured  wife  of  Aldobrand  ; 

I  am  the  scorned  minion  of  a  ruffian. 

enter  Clotilda. 

Imo.  Who  art  thou  that  thus  comest  on*  me  in  dark¬ 
ness  ? 


BERTRAM. 


Act  IV] 


41 


Clot.  The  taper’s  blaze  doth  make  it  bright  as  noon. 
Imo.  I  saw  thee  not,  till  thou  wert  close  to  me. 

So  steal  the  steps  of  those  who  watch  the  guilty ; 
How  darest  thou  gaze  thus  earnestly  upon  me ; 
What  seest  thou  in  my  face  ? 

“  Clot.  A  mortal  horror. 

If  aught  but  godless  souls  at  parting  bear 
The  lineaments  of  despair,  such  face  is  thine.” 

Imo.  See’st  thou  despair  alone  ? 

Nay,  mock  me  not,  for  thou  hast  read  more  deeply, 
Else  why  that  piercing  look. 

Clot.  I  meant  it  not — 

But  since  thy  lonely  walk  upon  the  rampart — 
Strange  hath  been  thy  demeanor,  all  thy  maidens 
Do  speak  in  busy  whispers  of  its  wildness — 

Imo.  “  O  hang  me  shuddering  on  the  baseless  crag. 
The  vampire’s  wing,  the  wild-worm’s  sting  be  oti 
me, 

But”  hide  me,  mountains,  from  the  man  I’ve  in¬ 
jured. 

Clot.  Whom  hast  thou  injured  ? 

Imo.  Whom  doth  woman  injure  ? 

Another  daughter  dries  a  father’s  tears  ; 

Another  sister  claims  a  brother’s  love  ; 

An  injured  husband  hath  no  other  wife, 

“  Save  her  who  wrought  him  shame.” 

Clot.  I  will  not  hear  thee. 

Imo.  We  met  in  madness,  and  in  guilt  we  parted — 
“Oh  !  I  see  horror  rushing  to  thy  face — ” 

Do  not  betray  me,  I  am  penitent — 

“  Do  not  betray  me,”  it  will  kill  my  lord — 

Do  not  betray  me,  it  will  kill  my  boy, 

My  little  one  that  loves  me. 

Clot.  Wretched  woman — 

Whom  guilt  hath  flung  at  “  a  poor  menial’s”  feet — 
Rise,  rise,  how  canst  thou  keep  thy  fatal  secret  l 


^  BERTRAM.  [Maturia 

Those  fixt  and  bloodshot  eyes,  those  wringing  hands— 
Imo.  And  were  !  featureless,  inert,  and  marble— 
Th’  accuser  here  would  speak — 

Clot.  Wilt  thou  seek  comfort  of  the  holy  prior? 
Imo.  When  I  was  innocent,  I  sought  it  of  him— 

F  r  if  his  lip  of  wrath  refused  my  pardon, 

Mv  heart  would  have  absolved  me—**  '• 

Now  when  that  heart  condemns  me.  what  avails 
The  pardon  of  my  earthly  erring  judge? 

4k  Clot.  Yet,  hie  from  hence,  upon  their  lady’s  bower 
No  menial  dares  intrude. 

“  Imo.  That  seat  of  honour— 

My  guilty  steps  shall  never  violate — ” 

Wliai  fearful  sound  is  that  ? 

Clot .  Alas,  a  teller  trial  doth  abide  thee; 

I  hear  thy  lord’s  approach. 

Madness  is  in  thy  looks,  he’ll  know  it  all— 

Imo.  Why,  1  am  mad  with  horror  and  remorse. 

He  comes,  he  comes,  in  all  that  murderous  kindness 
Oh  Bertram’s  curse  is  on  me. 

enter  aldobrand. 

Aid.  How  fares  my  dame  ?  give  me  thy  white  hand, 
love. 

“Oh  it  is  pleasant  for  a  war-worn  man 
To  c  uch  him  on  the  downy  lap  of  comfort— 

And  on  his  rush-strewn  floors  of  household  peace 
Hear  his  doffed  harness  ring — Take  thou  my  hel¬ 
met  :  ( to  page  who  goes  out )” 

Well  may  man  toil  for  such  an  hour  as  this. 

Imo.  ( standing  timidly  near  him )  Yea,  happier 
they,  who  on  the  bloody  field 
Stretch  when  their  toil  is  done — 

Aid.  What  means  my  love? 

Imo.  Is  there  not  rest  among  the  quiet  dead  ? 

“  But  is  there  surely  rest  in  mortal  dwellings?” 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  43 

Aid.  Deep  loneliness  hath  wrought  this  mood  in 
thee, 

For  like  a  cloistered  votarist  thou  hast  kept, 

Thv  damsels  tell  me,  this  long  turrets  bound— 

“  A  musing  walk  upon  the  moonlight  ramparts, 

“  Or  thy  lute’s  mournful  vespers  all  thy  cheering—1* 
Not  thine  to  parley  at  the  lattised  casement 
With  wandering  wooer,  or— 

Imo.  ( wildly )  For  mercy’s  sake  forbear— 

Aid.  How  farest  thou  ? 

Imo.  ( recovering )  Well — well — a  sudden  pain  o1 
th’  heart. 

Aid.  Knowest  thou  the  cause  detained  me  hence 
so  long, 

“  And  which  again  must  call  me  soon  away  ?” 

Imo.  ( trying  to  recollect  herself)  Was  it  not  war  ? 
Aid.  Ay,  and  the  worst  war,  love — 

When  our  fell  foes  are  our  own  countrymen. 

Thou  knowest  the  banish’d  Bertram — 44  why,  his 
name 

Doth  blanch  thy  altered  cheek,  as  if  his  band 
With  their  fierce  leader,  were  within  these  towers. 

“  Imo.  Mention  that  name  no  more — on  with  thy 
tale — 

Aid.  44 1  need  not  tell  thee,  how”  his  mad  ambition 
Strove  with  the  crown  itself  for  sovereignty — 

The  craven  monarch  was  his  subject’s  slave — 

In  that  dread  hour  my  country’s  guard  I  stood, 

From  the  state’s  vitals  tore  the  coiled  serpent, 

First  hung  him  writhing  up  to  public  scorn, 

Then  flung  him  forth  to  ruin. 

Imo.  Thou  need’st  not  tell  it — 

Aid.  “  Th’  apostate  would  be  great  even  in  his 
fall— 

“On  Manfredonia’s  wild  and  wooded  shore 
u  His  desperate  followers  awed  the  regions  round — *’ 
Late  from  Taranto’s  gulf  his  bark  was  traced 
Right  to  these  shores,  44  perchance  the  recent  >torm 
Hath  spared  me  further  search,  but  if  on  earth, 


44  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

His  living  form  be  found” — 

Imo,  Think’st  thou  he  harbours  here  ? 

“  Go,  crush  thy  foe — for  he  is  mine  and  thine — 

But  tell  me  not  when  thou  hast  done  the  deed.” 

Aid .  YVhy  art  thou  thus,  my  Imogine,  my  love  ? 

C£  In  former  happier  hours  thy  form  and  converse 
Had,  like  thy  lute,  that  gracious  melancholy 
Whose  most  sad  sweetness  is  in  tone  with  joy — 
Perchance  I’ve  been  to  thee  a  rugged  mate — 

My  soldier’s  mood  is  all  too  lightly  chafed — 

But  when  the  gust  hath  spent  its  short-liv’d  fury, 

I  bowed  before  thee  with  a  child’s  submission, 

And  wooed  thee  with  a  weeping  tenderness. 

“  Imo.  ( after  much  agitation )  Be  generous,  and 
stab  me — ” 

Aid.  Why  is  this  ? 

**  I  have  no  skill  in  woman’s  changeful  moods. 

Tears  without  grief,  and  smiles  without  a  joy — 

My  days  have  passed  away  ’mid  war  and  toil — 

The  grinding  casque  hath  worn  my  locks  of  youth  ; 
Beshrew  its  weight,  it  hath  ploughed  furrows  there, 
Where  time  ne’er  drove  its  share — mine  heart’s 
sole  wish 

Is  to  sit  down  in  peace  among  its  inmates — 

To  see  mine  home  for  ever  bright  with  smiles, 

’Mid  thoughts  of  past,  and  blessed  hopes  of  future, 
Glide  through  the  vacant  hours  of  waning  life — 
Then  die  the  blessed  death  of  aged  honour, 

Grasping  thy  hand  of  faith,  and  fixing  on  thee 
Eyes  that,  though  dim  in  death,  are  bright'  with 
love. 

Imo.  “  Thou  never  wilt — thou  never  wilt  on  me — 
Ne’er  erred  the  prophet  heart  that  grief  inspired, 
Though  joy’s  illusions  mock  their  votarist — ” 

I’m  dying,  Aldobrand,  a  malady 

Preys  on  my  heart,  that  medicine  cannot  reach, 

“  Invisible  and  cureless — look  not  on  me 
With  looks  of  love,  for  then  it  stings  me  deepest — ” 
When  I  am  cold,  when  my  pale  sheeted  corse 
Sleeps  the  dark  sleep  no  venomed  tongue  can  wake, 


BERTRAM. 


45 


Act.  IV] 


List  not  to  evil  thoughts  of  her  whose  lips 
H  ive  then  no  voice  to  plead — 

Take  to  thine  arms  some  honourable  dame, 

“  (Blessed  will  she  be  within  thine  arn.s  of  honour)” 
And — if  he  dies  not  on  his  mother’s  grave — 

Still  love  my  boy  as  if  that  mother  lived. 

Aid.  Banish  such  gloomy  dreams — 

M  ’Tis  solitude  that  makes  thee  speak  thus  sadly — 

44  No  longer  shalt  tbou  pine  in  lonely  halls.’* 

Come  to  my  courh,  my  love — 

Imo.  Stand  off — unhand  me.— 

“  Forgive  me,  oh  my  husband  ;** 

I  have  a  vow,  a  solemn  tow  is  on  me — 

44  And  black  perdition  gulf  my  perjured  soul” 

If  1  ascend  the  bed  of  peace  and  honour 

Till  that - 

Aid .  Tiil  what  ? 

Imo.  My  penance  is  accomplished. 

Aid.  Nay,  heaven  forfend  I  should  disturb  thy 
orisons — 

The  reverend  prior  were  fittest  counsellor — ■ 
Farewell ! — “  but  in  the  painful  hour  of  penance 
Think  upon  me,  and  spare  thy  tender  frame. 

44  Imo.  And  dost  thou  leave  me  with  such  stabbing 
kindness  ? 

44  Aid.  ( to  Clotilda,  who  goes  out )  Call  to  my  page 
To  bring  the  torch,  and  light  me  to  mv  chamber — ** 
Imo.  ywith  a  sudden  imfiulse  Jailing  on  her  knees) 
Yet,  ere  thou  goest,  forgive  me,  “oh  my  husband — ” 

Aid.  Forgive  thee  ! — What?< - 

Imo.  Oh,  we  do  all  offend — 

There’s  not  a  day  of  wedded  life,  if  we 
Count  at  its  close  the  little  bitter  sum 
Of  thoughts  and  words,  and  looks  unkind  and  fro- 
ward, 

Silence  that  chides,  and  wounding*  of  the  eye— 

But  prostrate  at  each  other’s  feet,  we  should 
Each  night  forgiveness  ask — then  what  should  I  ? 
Aid.  44  (not  hearing  the  last  words)'*  Why  take  it 
freely  , 

I  well  may  pardon  what  1  ne’er  have  felt, 


46 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


Im°'  imnd)Wing  him  °n  heV  1(71668  and  ki8sinS  /iis 

?^Sti  u?U  forgive  me  from  thine  inmost  soul- 
Crod  bless  thee,  oh  God  bless  thee _ ” 

A  d ,tSkreWell"~*<  minC  eyCS  Srovv  heavy,  thy  sad 

a  T^a^n  s*°*en  a  heaviness  upon  my  spirits — 

1  will  unto  my  solitary  couch—”  Farewell. 

^°flict— ^  ^  n°  human  heart  can  bide  this^con- 

All  dark  and  horrible. — Bertram  must  die _ 

But  oh,  within  these  walls,  before  mine  eyes, 

Who  would  have  died  for  him,  while  life  had  value  : 
He  shall  not  die-«  Clotilda,  ho,  come  forth  ;  * 

«e  yet  may  be  redeemed,  though  I  am  lost— 

J-iet  him  depart,  and  pray  for  her  he  ruin’d  .” 

?ah  “  ™as  u  ^ncy’s  work  ”  I  hear  a  step— 

It  hath  the  speech-like  thrilling  of  his  tread  ; 
it  is  himself. 


enter  Bertram. 


“It  is  a  crime  in  me  to  look  on  thee— 

But  in  whate’er  I  do  there  now  is  crime— 

Yet  ^fety—  thought  still  struggles  for  thy 

Fly’  'thee— HPS  without  a  crime  may  waru 

Would  thou  hadst  never  come,  or  sooner  parted. 

On  God — he  heeds  me  not : 

Why  comest  thou  thus?’’  what  is  thy  fearful  busi¬ 
ness  r 

“  I  know  thou  comest  for  evil,  but  its  purport 
I  ask  my  heart  in  vain,  ^ 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  47 

Ber.  “  Guess  it,  and  spare  me.”  ( a  long  pause , 
during  which  she  gazes  at  him ) 

Canst  thou  not  read  it  in  my  face  ? 

“  Imo.  I  dare  not ; 

Mixt  shades  of  evil  thought  are  darkening  there ; 

But  what  my  fears  do  indistinctly  guess 
Would  blast  me  to  behold — ( turns  away,  a  pause)” 
Ber.  Dost  thou  not  hear  it  in  my  very  silence  ? 
That  which  no  voice  can  tell,  doth  tell  itself. 

“  Imo.  My  harassed  thought  hath  not  one  point  of 
fear. 

Save  that  it  must  not  think.” 

Ber.  ( throwing  his  dagger  “  on  the  ground ”) 
Speak  thou  for  me. — 

Shew  me  the  chamber  where  thy  husband  lies, 

The  morning  must  not  see  us  both  alive. 

Imo.  ( screaming  and  struggling  with  him)  Ah ! 
horror  !  horror  !  off— withstand  me  not, 

I  will  arouse  the  castle,  rouse  the  dead. 

To  save  my  husband  ;  villain,  murderer,  monster, 
Dare  the  bayed  lioness,  but  fly  from  me. 

“  Ber.  Go,  wake  the  castle  with  thy  frantic  cries  : 
Those  cries  that  tell  my  secret,  blazon  thine. 

Yea,  pour  it  on  thine  husband’s  blasted  ear. 

“Imo.  Perchance  his  wrath  may  kill  me  in  its 
mercy. 

“  Ber .  No,  hope  not  such  a  fate  of  mercy  from  him ; 
He’ll  curse  thee  with  his  pardon. 

And  would  his  death-fixed  eye  be  terrible 
As  its  ray  bent  in  love  on  her  that  wronged  him  ? 
And  would  his  dying  groan  affright  thine  ear 
Like  words  of  peace  spoke  to  thy  guilt — in  vain  ? 
“Imo.  I  care  not,  I  am  reckless,  let  me  perish. 

“  Ber.  No,  thou  must  live  amid  a  hissing  world, 

A  thing  that  mothers  warn  their  daughters  from, 

A  thing  the  menials  that  do  tend  thee  scorn. 

Whom  when  the  good  do  name,  they  tell  their 
beads, 


48  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

And  when  the  wicked  think  of,  they  do  triumph  ; 
Cc.nst  thou  encounter  this  ? 

u  Imo.  I  must  encounter  it — I  have  deserved  it ; 
Begone,  or  my  next  cry  shall  wake  the  dead. 

“  Ber.  Hear  me. 

“  Imo.  N'>  parley,  tempter  ;  fiend,  avaunt. 

M  Ber.  Thy  son. — {she  stands  stupifed)  Go,  take 
him  trembling  in  thy  hand  of  sti*me, 

A  victim  to  the  shrine  of  public  scorn — 

Poor  boy  !  his  sire’s  worst  foe  might  pity  him, 

Albeit  his  mother  will  not — 

Banished  from  noble  halls,  and  knightly  converse. 
Devouring  his  young  heart  in  loneliness 
With  bitter  thought — my  mother  was — a  wretch.” 
Imo.  {falling  at  his  feet )  “lama  wretch,  but  who 
hath  made  me  so  ? 

I’m  writhing  like  a  worm,  beneath  thy  spurn.” 

Have  pity  on  me,  I  have  had  much  wrong. 

Ber.  My  heart  is  as  the  steel  within  my  grasp. 

“  Imo.  {still  kneeling )  Thou  hast  cast  me  down 
from  light, 

From  my  high  sphere  of  purity  and  peace, 

Where  once  I  walked  in  mine  uprightness,  blessed— 
Do  not  thou  cast  me  into  utter  darkness.” 

Ber.  {looking  on  her  ’with  pity  for  a  ihomenf)  Thou 
fairest  flower — 

Why  didst  thou  fling  thyself  across  my  path, 

My  tiger  spring  must  crush  thee  in  its  way, 

But  cannot  pause  to  pity  thee. 

Imo.  Thou  must, 

“  For  I  am  strong  in  woes” — I  ne’er  reproached 
thee — 

"  I  plead  but  with  my  agonies  and  tears — ” 

Kind,  gentle,  Bertram,  my  beloved  Bertram, 

For  thou  wert  gentle  once,  “  and  once  beloved,” 
Have  mercy  on  me — Oh  thou  couldst  not  think  it — 
{looking  up, ,  and  seeing  no  relenting  in  his  face ,  she 
s tart 8  up  wildly  ) 

By  heaven  “  and  all  its  host,”  he  shall  not  perish. 


BERTRAM. 


49 


Act  IV] 


Ber.  “  By  hell  and  all  its  host,”  he  shall  not  live. 
“This  is  no  transient  flash  of  fugitive  passion— 

His  death  hath  been  my  life  for  years  of  misery 
Which  else  I  had  not  lived — 

Upon  that  thought  and  not  on  food  I  fed, 

Upon  that  thought,  and  not  on  sleep  I  rested 
I  come  to  do  the  deed  that  must  be  done —  ^ 

Nor  thou,  nor  sheltering  angels,  could  prevent  me.  ’ 
Imo.  “  But  man  shall,  miscreant” — help  ! 
jjji  Ber ,  Thou  callest  in  vain  — 

The  armed  vassals  all  are  far  from  succour— 

“  Following  St.  Anselm’s  votarists  to  the  convent—” 
My  band  of  blood  are  darkening  in  their  halls— 

“  Would st  have  him  butchered  by  their  ruffian  hands 
That  wait  mv  bidding? 

“  Imo.  ( falling  on  the  ground)— Fell  and  horrible 
I’m  seal’d,  shut  down  in  ransomless  perdition. 

“  Ber.  Fear  not,  my  vengeance  will  not  yield  its 
prey. 

He  shall  fall  nobly,  by  my  hand  shall  fall — 

But  still  and. dark  the  summons  of  its  fate, 

So  winds  the  coiled  serpent  round  his  victim. 

(a  horn  sounds  without) 

Whence  was  that  blast  ?”  those  felon  slaves  are 
come - 

He  shall  not  perish  by  their  ruffian  hands. 

[exit  Bertram 

Imo.  ( gazing  round  her ,  and  slowly  recovering  re - 
collection ,  repeats  his  last  words)— He  shall 
not  perish — 

,Oh  !  it  was  all  a  dream — a  horrid  dream — 

'  He  was  not  here— it  is  impossible— 

( tottering  towards  the  door) 

■  I  will  not  be  alone  another  moment 
Lest  it  do  come  again— where,  where  art  thou  ? 


E 


50  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

“ enter  Clotilda. 

u  Clot.  Didst  thou  not  call  me  ? — at  thy  voice  of 
anguish 

I  hasten,  though  I  cannot  hear  thy  words— 

“  Imo,  Let  me  lean  on  thee,  let  me  hold  thee  fast— 
\ea  strongly  grasp  some  strong  substantial  thing 
To  scare  away  foul  forms  of  things  that  are  not— 

1  hey  have  been  with  me  in  my  loneliness. 

Oh,  i  have  had  such  dark  and  horrid  thoughts— 

But  they  are  gone— we  will  not  think  of  them— 

“  Clot  What  hath  been  with  thee? 

“  Imo'  Something  dark  that  hovered  (deliriously) 
Upon  the  confines  of  unmingling  worlds, 

In  dread  for  life — for  death  too  sternly  definite 
Something  the  thought  doth  try  in  vain  to  follow— 

1  h rough  mist  and  twilight— 

“  Clo.  Wo  is  me!  methought 
I  saw  the  form  of  Bertram  as  I  entered— 

“  ( starting  with  sudden  recollection )  Oh 

God— it  was  no  vision  then,  thou  sawest  him— 

Give  me  my  phrensy  back — one  moment’s  thought _ 

Lis  done,  by  Heaven,  ’tis  done— 

I  will  tall  down  before  his  injured  feet, 

1  11  tell  him  all  my  shame,  and  all  my  guilt, 

My  wrongs  shall  be  a  weapon  in  his  hand, 

And  if  it  tail,  this  tainted  frame  of  sin 

Shall  fall  a  shield  before  my  husband’s  breast _ 

1 11  wake  the  castle— wake  the  faithful  vassals— 

1 11—  (going,  she  sto/is  suddenly) 

I  cannot  be  the  herald  of  my  shame, 

Go  thou,  and  tell  them  what  I  cannot  utter. 

“  Cl° •  °h>  yet  forgive  me,  through  that  gloomy 

passage  07 

I  dare  not  venture,  lest  that  dark  form  meet  me. 

“/mo.  Nay,  thou  must  go,  ’tis  I  that  dare  not  ven¬ 
dor,  it  I  see  him  in  his  holy  sleep  [ture _ 

Resting  so  calmly  on  the  bed  I’ve  wronged, 

My  heart  will  burst,  and  he  must  die  unwarned _ 

[exit  Clotilda 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  51 

“  Imo.  {listening  after  her )  How  long  she  lingers 
—■ay — he  knows  my  guilt 
Even  from  this  untold  summons — ay — my  boy. 

They  clothe  thee  with  my  shame. 

Hush — look — all’s  still  within — a  horrid  stillness — 
Perchance,  that  she,  even  she  is  bribed  to  aid — 

Wo’s  me,  who  now  can  trust  a  menial’s  faith, 

When  that  his  wedded  wife  hath  done  him  wrong. 

“  enter  Clotilda. 

**  Clo.  All’s  safe — all’s  well — 

“  Imo.  What  meanest  thou  by  these  words  ? 

For  sounds  of  comfort  to  my  blasted  ear 
Do  ring  a  death-peal — 

“  Clo.  Heardest  thou  not  the  horn  ? 
u  Imo.  1  heard  no  horn,  I  only  heard  a  voice 
That  menaced  murder — 

“  Clo.  Oh  i  the  horn  did  sound — 

And  with  it  came  a  blessed  messenger. 

St.  Anselm’s  knights  within  their  patron’s  walls 
Do  hold  a  solemn  feast,  and  o’er  his  shrine 
They  hang  the  holy  banner  of  his  blessing — 

Full  swiftly  came  the  summons  to  thy  lord 
To  join  them  in  their  solemn  ceremony— 

Lord  Aldobrand  with  few  attendants  gone, 

Though  late  the  hour,  and  dark  the  way,  ere  this 
Hath  measured  half  the  distance. 

“  Imo.  {throwing  herself  -vehemently  on  her  knees ) 
Thank  God,  thank  God — Heaven  bless  the  gallant 
knights ! 

Then  he  is  safe  until  the  morning’s  dawn. 

“  enter  page. 

“  Imo.  Speak — who  art  thou  ? 

Page.  Dost  thou  not  know  me,  lady  ? 

“  Imo .  V\  ell,  well,  I  reck  not — wherefore  art  thou 
•ome  l 


™  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

“Page.  So  fierce  the  mountain-stream  comes  roar¬ 
ing  down, 

The  rivulet  that  bathes  the  convent  walls 
Is  now  a  foaming  flood — upon  its  brink 
Thy  lord  and  his  small  train  do  stand  appalled 
With  torch  and  bell  from  their  high  battlements 
The  monks  do  summon  to  the  pass  in  vain  ; 

He  must  return  to-night. 

“ Imo .  ’Tis  false,  he  must  not— Oh,  I  shall  run 
mad — 

Go  thou,  and  watch  upon  the  turret’s  height—  (to 
Clotilda') 

The  flood  must  fall— the  bright  moon  must  shine 
forth  ; 

Go,  go  and  tell  me  so — why  stayest  tfyou  here,  (to 

page) 

Begone,  and  do  not  heed,  and  do  not  wat^h  me. 

[exit  page 

1  ve  lost  the  courage  of  mine  innocence, 

And  dare  not  have  the  courage  of  despair — 

The  evil  strength  that  gave  temptation  danger, 
let  cannot  give  remorse  its  energy. 

“enter  ci.otilda. 

“  &ot'  The  night  is  calm  and  clear,  and  o’er  the 
plain 

Nor  arms  do  glimmer  on  my  straining  e£ght, 

Nor  through  the  stilly  air  did  horseman’s  tramp 
Ring  in  faint  echo  from  the  hollow  hill, 

Though  my  fixed  ear  did  list  to  giddiness— 

Be  comforted,  he  must  have  passed  the  Stream— 

*’  Yea,  1  am  comforted,  ’tis  blessed  comfort— 
He  must  have  passed  the  stream— Oh  pitying  Hea¬ 
ven 

Accept  these  tears,  these  are  not  sinful  tears — 

I  ell  me  again  that  he  will  not  return. 

u  Clot.  I  soothly  say,  he  must  have  passed  the 
stream.  '  ~J  ■  .<  ■  •:  'll 


Act  IV]  BERTRAM.  53 

u(thc  horn  is  heard,  without,  announcing  Aldo - 

brand's  return ) 

“  Clot  *Tis  Aldobrand,  he’s  lost— we  all  are  lost— 
{without') 

il  Into  Now  Heaven  have  mercy  on  thy  soul,  my 
husband, 

For  man  hath  none  Is  there  no  hope,  no  help  ? 

( looking  towards  the  door ,  across  which  the  band  of 
Bertram  march  silently  and  range  themselves ) 
None,  none — his  gathering  band  are  dark  airound 
me — 

I  will  make  one  last  effort  for  their  mercy, 

If  they  be  human  they  will  listen  to  me. 

( rushing  towards  them ,  they  step  forward  and  point 
their  swords  to  resist  her) 

Oh,  there  is  nothing  merciful  in  their  looks ; 

Oh,  there  is  nothing  hit  an  in  their  hearts  ; 

They  are  not  men — Hell  hath  sent  up  its  devils. 
There  is  no  hope  ;  I’ll  hear  his  dying  groan. 

I’ll  hear  his  last  cry  for  that  help  that  comes  not  ; 

I’ll  hear  him  call  upon  his  wife  and  child— 

I  will  not  hear  it.  ( stopping  her  ears) 

Oh  that  my  tighten’d  heart  had  breath  for  prayer  ; 
Mercy,  oh  mercy,  Bertr  am  ! 

{ another  horn  heard  without ,  she  starts  and  staggers 
towards  the  door  a  noise  of  swords  within ) 

Aid  {within)  Off,  villain,  off — 

Ber.  Vihain  tnthv  soul,  for  1  am  Bertram. 

( Aldobrand  retreating  before  Bertram,  rushes  on 
the  stage ,  and  falls  at  Imogene's  feet. 

Aid,  “  Let  me  die  at  her  feet,  my  wife,  my  wife, 
Wilt  thou  not  staunch  the  life  blood  streaming  from 
me  ? 

Wilt  thou  not  look  at  me  ?”  O  save  mv  boy  {dies) 
( Imogene  at  the  name  of  her  sow,  rushes  off  ;  Ber • 
tram  stands  over  the  body  holding  the  daggi  r  with 
his  eyes  fxed  on  it ;  the  band  fit  up  the  back  ;  the 
curtain  drops) 

E  2 


54 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


ACT  V. 

scene  i — the  chapel  in  the  convent  of  St.  Anselm^ 
the  shrine  splendidly  illuminated  and  decorated— 
“  the  Prior  rising  from  before  the  altar . 

enter  1st  monk. 

“  Monk.  How  gay  and  glorious  doth  our  temple 
seem  ! 

Look  round  thee,  father. 

“  Prior .  I  feel  no  joy  like  that  the  faithful  feel, 
Viewing  the  glories  of  their  holy  place  ; 

An  horror  of  great  darkness  is  upon  me, 

A  fearful  dread  hath  overwhelmed  me. 

“  Monk.  Wherefore  ? 

**  Prior.  As  at  the  shrine  I  knelt  but  now  in 
prayer, 

Nor  sleep,  nor  waking,  but  a  horrible  vision 

Fell  on  my  tranced  spirit,  and  I  dreamed - 

On  the  dark  mountains  was  the  vision  wrought. 

Of  mist,  and  moonlight,  mingling  fitfully  -  -— 

A  brinded  wolf  did  tear  a  struggling  lion 
While  the  cowed  lioness  stood  trembling  by — — 

I  wist  not  what  it  meant,  but  in  mine  agony, 

I  prayed  to  be  released,  and  as  I  woke 

The  echoes  gave  me  back  my  slumbering  cries— 

“  Monk.  Tis  a  good  dream,  and  bodeth  something 
good, - 

“  Prior .  How  sayst  thou,  good  ? 

“  Monk.  I  dreamed  it  on  that  night 
Lord  Aldobrand  did  from  his  castle  come, 

And  blessed  days  of  peace  have  followed  it.- - 

“  Prior.  Heaven  grant  they  may  ! 

“  Monk.  Lo,  where  the  knights  approach.” 

( enter  the  knights  in  solemn  procession  with  the  con¬ 
secrated  banner — the  prior  advances  to  meet 
them.)  ' 

Prior.  Hail!  champions  of  the  church  and  of  the 
land, 


Act  V]  BERTRAM.  55 

The  banner  of  our  holy  saint  in  fight 
Full  bravely  have  ye  borne,  and  scatheless  back, 
From  unblessed  weapon  and  from  arm  unholy, 
Restored  it  to  the  power  whose  might  struck  for  you. 
{the  music  commences ,  the  knights  and  monks  ad¬ 
vance  in  procession ,  the  prior  bearing  the  banner , 
which  he  has  received  from  the  principal  knight .) 

HYMN. 

Guardian  of  the  good  and  brave 

Their  banner  o’er  thy  shrine  we  wave - 

Monk,  who  counts  the  midnight  b6ad - 

Knight,  who  spurs  the  battle  steed,— — 

He,  who  dies  ’mid  requiem’s  knelling - 

Alike  thy  care,  whose  grace  is  shed 

On  cowled  scalp  and  helmet  head - 

Thy  temple  of  the  rock'  and  flood 

Forages  mid  their  wrath  has  stood - 

Thy  midnight  bell,  through  storm  and  calm 
Hath  shed  on  listening  ear  its  balm. 

u  ( the  hymn  is  interrupted  by ”  3 d  monk  rushing  in 

distractedly .) 

3d  Monk .  Forbear,  forbear-  — 

Prior.  Why  comest  thou  thus  with  voice  of  despe¬ 
rate  fear, 

Breaking  upon  our  solemn  ceremony  ? 

3 d  Monk.  Despair  is  round  our  walls,  a  wailing 
spirit, 

“  Yea  the  mixt  wailings  of  the  infernal  host 
Burst  deafeningly  amid  the  shuddering  blast”— 

No  earthly  lip  might  utterance  give  to  such — - 
Prior.  Thou’rt  wild  with  watching,  4k  fear  and 
loneliness, 

In  thy  sole  turret  that  o’erhangs  the  flood. 

Of  winds  and  waves,  the  strangely  mingled  sounds 
Ride  heavily”  the  night-wind’s  hollow  sweep, 
Mocking  the  sounds  of  human  lamentation* - 


56  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

3 d  Monk.  Hush,  look,  it  comes  again,  (a  screcuri) 
Prior.  Defend  us,  heaven, 

’Tvvas  horrible  indeed  ;  *tis  in  our  walls — 

Ha,  through  the  cloister  there  doth  something  glide 
“  That  seems  in  truth  not  earthly— — ” 

imogine  rushes  in  with  her  child ,  her  hair  dishe¬ 
velled ,  her  dress  stained  with  blood. 

Imo.  Save  me,  save  me. 

Prior.  Save  thee,  from  what  ? 

Imo.  “From  earth,  and  heaven,  and  hell,” 

All,  all  are  arm’d,  and  rushing  in  pursuit— 

( firior ,  monks ,  and  knights  gathering  around ,  and 
speaking  together ) 

All.  Who,  what,  what  hath  befallen  thee  ? 

Speak. 

Imo.  O,  wait  not  here  to  speak,  but  fly  to  save  him, 
For  he  lies  low  upon  the  bloody  ground. 

Knight.  She  speaks  in  madness,  ask  the  frighted  boy 
Hath  aught  befallen  his  father  ? 

Imo.  Ask  him  not — 

He  hath  no  father — we  have  murder’d  him — 
Traitress  and  murderer — we  have  murder’d  him— 
They’ll  not  believe  me  for  mine  agony — 

Is  not  his  very  blood  upon  my  raiment? 

Reeks  not  the  charnel-stream  of  murder  from  me  ? 
Prior  and  Monks,  (vehemently)  Impossible  ! 

Imo.  Ay,  heaven  and  earth  do  cry,  impossible ; 
The  shuddering  angels  “  round  th’  eternal  throne, 
Vailing  themselves  in  glory”  shriek  impossible. 

But  hell  doth  know  it  true.  — - 

Prior.  ( advancing  to  her  solemnly)  Spirits  of 
madness,  that  possess  this  woman, 

“  Depart,  I  charge  you,  trouble  her  no  more, 

Till  she  do  answer  to  mine  adjuration” - 

Who  did  the  deed  ? 


BERTRAM. 


57 


■}.  Act  V] 

( Imagine  sinks  gradually  from  his  fixed  eye,  till , 
hiding  her  face,  she  falls  on  the  ground  in  silence ) 
Knight.  1  do  believe  it,  horrid  as  it  seems— 

•  ls£  Monk.  Pd  not  believe  her  words,  I  do  her  si¬ 
lence. 

Prior.  “  {who  has  fallen  back  in  horror  into  the 
arms  of  the  monks,  rushes  forward)” 

Oh  !  draw  your  swords,  brave  knights,  and  sheathe 
them  not- - 

“  Slack  not  to  wield  the  sword  of  Aldobrand, 

Arise,  pursue,  avenge,  exterminate 
With  all  the  implements  of  mortal  might, 

And  all  the  thunders  of  the  church’*  curse.”-  — 

[ exeunt  tumultuously  knights,  monks,  and  attend¬ 
ants ,  the  prior  is  following  them ,  Imagine ,  still 
kneeling ,  grasps  him  by  the  robe. 

Prior .  {with  mixt  emotion,  turning  to  her ) 

Thou  art  a  wretch.  I  did  so  love  and  honour  thee— 
Thou’st  broke  mine  aged  heart — that  look  again — 

Woman,  let  go  thy  withering  hold - 

Inio,  I  dare  not — 

I  have  no  hold  but  upon  heaven  and  thee. 

Prior.  ( tearing  himself  from  her)  “  I  go,  yet  ere 
mine  aged  feet  do  bear  me 
To  the  dark  chase  of  that  fell  beast  of  b’ood,” 

Hear  thou,  and — hope  not — if  by  word  or  deed, 

Yea,  by  invisible  thought,  unuttered  wish, 

Thou  hast  been  ministrant  to  this  horrid  act — 

With  full  collected  force  of  malediction 

-  1  do  pronounce  unto  thy  soul — despair -  [exit 

Imo.  ( looking  round  on  the  chapel ,  after  a  long 
pause)  They’ve  left  me ;  all  things  leave  si»e,  all 
things  human ; 

Follower  and  friend,  last  went  the  man  of  God  ; 

The  last — but  yet  he  went— 
t)  “  Child.  I  will  nor  leave  thee 

“  Imo .  My  son,  my  son,  was  that  thy  voice — 
When  heaven  and  angels,  earth  and  earthly  things 
Do  leave  the  guilty  in  their  guiltiness, 

\  A  cherub’s  voice  doth  whisper  in  my  child’s. 

K  ■■ 

i  I  \- 

■  - 


58 


BERTRAM. 


[Maturin 


There  is  a  shrine  within  thy  little  heart 
Where  I  will  hide,  nor  hear  the  trump  of  doom,” 
Child.  Dear  mother,  take  me  home— 
lmo.  Thou  hast  no  home  ; 

She,  whom  thou  callest  mother,  left  thee  none. 

“  We’re  hunted  from  mankind  ( sinking  down) 

“  Here  will  we  lie  in  darkness  down  together, 

And  sleep  a  dreamless  sleep”— what  form  is  that — 
Why  have  they  laid  him  there  ?  ( recoiling ) 

“  Plain  in  the  gloomy  depth  he  lies  before  me 
The  cold  blue  wound  whence  blood  hath  ceased  to 
flow, 

The  stormy  clenching  of  the  bared  teeth  ; 

“  The  gory  socket  that  the  balls  have  burst  from 
I  see  them  all — ( shrieking ) 

It  moves — it  moves — it  rises — it  comes  on  me — 
’Twill  break  th’  eternal  silence  of  the  grave  ; 

’Twill  wind  me  in  its  creaking  matrowleiss  arms. 
Hold  up  thy  hands  to  it,  it  was  thy  father ; 

Ah,  it  would  have  thee  too,  off— save  me — off— 

{rushes  out  with  the  child) 

scene  ii — changes  to  the  castle. 

prior  enters  alone. 

Prior.  His  halls  are  desolate  ;  the  lonely  walls 
Echo  my  single  tread — through  the  long  galleries — 
The  hurrying  knights  can  trace  nor  friend  nor  foe  ; 
The  murderer  hath  escaped — u  the  saints  forgive 
me, 

I  feel  mine  heart  of  weakness  is  come  back, 

Almost  I  wish  he  had — ha,  here  is  blood — 

Mine  ebbing  spirits  lacked  this  stirring  impulse — ” 
Ho — haste  ye  here — “  the  shedder  must  be  near.” 

enter  the  knights,  monks,  &c.  sufifiorting  Clo¬ 
tilda. 


Act  V]  BERTRAM.  59 

Knight.  We,  found  this  trembling  maid,  alone,  con¬ 
cealed — 

Prior.  Speak — tell  of  Bertram — of  thy  lord — the 
vassals — 

Clot.  Oh,  give  me  breath,  for  I  am  weak  with  fear; 
Short  was  the  bloody  conflict  of  the  night — 

The  few  remaining  vassals  fled  in  fear — 

The  bandits,  loaded  with  the  castle’s  spoil — • 

Are  gone — I  saw  them  issue  from  the  walls — 

But  yet  I  dared  not  venture  forth,  while  Bertram — 

Ml.  Go  on — go  on - 

Clot.  He  bore  the  murdered  body 
Alone  into  yon  chamber.  (/ lointing ) 

“  I  heard  the  heavy  weight  tr  ail  after  him  ; 

I  heard  his  bloody  hands  make  fast  the  door  ; 

There  hath  he  sat  in  dread  society,” 

The  corse  and  murderer  are  there  together. 

( the  knights  draw  their  swords ,  and  rush  towards 

the  door ) 

Prior,  (int erf losing)  Hold,  champions,  hold,  “  this 
warfare  is  for  me.” 

The  arm  of  flesh  were  powerless  on  him  now  ; 

Hark  how  the  faltering  voice  of  feeble  age 
Shall  bow  him  to  its  bidding.  Ho,  come  forth, 

(striking  the  door ) 
Thou  man  of  blood,  come  forth,  “thy  doom  awaits 
thee.” 

Bertram  ofiens  the  door,  and  advances  slowly ;  his 
dress  is  stained  with  blood ,  and  he  grasps  the  hilt 
of  a  dagger  in  his  hand — his  look  is  so  marked  and 
grand ,  that  the  knights ,  &c.  make  room  for  him% 
and  he  advances  to  the  front  untouched. 

“  All.  Who  art  thou  ?” 

Per.  I  am  the  murderer;  wherefore  are  ye  come  ? 
“  Prior.  This  majesty  of  guilt  doth  awe  my  spirit ; 
Is  it  th’  embodied  fiend  who  tempted  him 
Sublime  in  guilt  ?” 


60  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Ber.  “  Marvel  not  at  me wist  ye  whence  I 
come  ? 

The  tomb,  where  dwell  the  dead,  and  I  dwelt  tvith 
Till  sense  of  life  dissolved  away  within  me.  [him, 

{looking  round  ghastlily  ) 

I  am  amazed  to  see  ye  living  men. 

I  deemed  that  when  I  struck  the  final  blow 
Mankind  expired,  and  we  were  left  alone, 

The  corse  and  I  were  left  alone  together, 

The  only  tenants  of  a  blasted  world 
“  Dispeopled  for  my  punishment,  and  changed  a: 
Into  a  penal  orb  of  desolation.” 

Prior.  “  Advance  and  bind  him,  are  ye  men  and 
armed  ?  ' 

What,  must  this  palsied  hand  be  first  on  him.?’* 
Advance,  and  seize  him,  ere  his  voice  of  blasphemy 
Shall  pile  the  roof  in  ruins  o’er  our  heads. 

Ber.  Advance,  and  seize  me,  ye  who  smile  at 
blood,  v  - 

For  every  drop  of  mine  a  life  shall  pay  ; 

I’m  naked,  famished,  faint,  my  brand  is  broken ; 
Rush,  mailed  champions,  on  the  helpless  Bertram  ; 

{they  sink  back ) 

Now  prove  what  fell  resistance  I  shall  make. 

( throws  down  the  hilt  of  his  dagger ) 
There,  bind  mine  arms,  it  ye  do  list  to  bind  them  ; 

I  came  to  yield,  but  not  to  be  subdued. 

Prior.  Oh,  thou,  who  o’er  thy  stormy  grandeur 
flingest 

A  struggling  beam  that  dazzles,  awes,  and  vanishes  ; 
Thou  who  dost  blend  our  wonder  with  our  curses, 
Why  didst  thou  this  ? 

Ber.  He  wronged  me,  and  I  slew  him.  ^ 

To  man  but  thee  1  ne’er  had  said  even  this ; 

“  To  man  but  thee,  I  ne’er  shall  utter  more.” 

Now  speed  ye  swift  from  questioning  to  death — 

{they  surround  him ) 

One  prayer,  my  executioners,  not  conquerors  ; 

“  Be  most  ingenious  in  your  cruelty 

Let  rack  and  pincer  do  their  full  work  on  me  ; 


BERTRAM, 


61 


Act  V] 


’Twill  rouse  me  from  that  dread  unnatural  sleeep, 

In  which  mv  soul  hath  dreamt  its  dreams  of  agony  ; 
This  is  my  prayer,  ye’ll  not  refuse  it  to  me. 

(as  they  are  leading  him  off,  the  firior  lays  hold  of 

him) 

Prior.  Yet  bend  thy  steeled  sinews,  bend  and  pray ; 
The  corse  of  him  thou’st  murdered  lies  within, 

(a  long  pause) 

Per.  I  have  offended  Heaven,  but  will  not  mock  it. 
Spare  me  your  rack  and  pincers,  spare  me  words. 

[ exeunt 

scene  hi — a  dark  wood,  in  the  back  scene  a  cavern , 
rocks  and  precipices  above — imogine  comes  for¬ 
ward. 

Imo.  (sighing  heavily  after  a  long  pause)  If  I  could 
waft  away  this  low-hung  mist 
That  darkens  o’er  my  brow ; 

If  I  could  but  unbind  this  burning  band 
That  tightens  round  my  heart. 

4<  Of  night  or  morning  is  it  ? 

1  wist  not  which,  a  dull  and  dismal  twilight 
Pervading  all  things,  and  confounding  all  things, 

Doth  hover  o’er  my  senses  and  my  soul.” 

(comes  forward  shuddering) 
“  The  moon  shines  on  me,  but  it  doth  not  light  me 
The  surge  glides  past  me,  but  it  breathes  not  on  me. 
My  child,  my  child,  where  art  thou  ;  come  to  me, 

I  know  thou  hidest  thyself  for  sport  to  mock  me ; 

Yet  come,  for  I  am  scared  with  loneliness. 

I’ll  call  on  thee  no  more,  lo,  there  he  glides, 

And  there,  and  there,  he  flies  from  me,  “  he  laughs, 
I’ll  sing  thee  songs  the  church-yard  spirits  taught 
me. 

I’ll  sit  all  night  on  the  grey  tombs  with  thee, 

So  thou  wilt  turn  to  me  he’s  gone,  he’s  gone. 

inter  Clotilda,  prior  and  monks  surrounding. 

Clot.  She’s  here,  she’s  here  ;  and  is  it  thus  I  see  her? 

F 


.62  BLR1  RAM.  £Maturin 

Prior.  All-pitying  heaven,  release  her  from  this 
misery. 

Imo.  Away,  unhand  me,  ye  are  executioners ! 

I  know  your  horrible  errand  ;  who  hath  sent  you  ? 
This  is  false  Bertram’s  doing  ;  “  God,  oh  God,” 

How  I  did  love,  and  how  am  I  requited  ; 

Well,  well,  accuse  me  of  what  crime  you  will, 

I  ne’er  was  guilty  of  not  loving  thee  ; 

Oh,  spare  the  torture,  and  I  will  confess ; 

Nay,  now  there  needs  it  not,  his  look’s  enough. 

That  smile  hath  keener  edge  than  many  daggers. 

(she  sinks  into  Clotilda’s  arms') 
Clo.  How  could  this  wasted  form  sustain  the  toils, 
Bearing  her  helpless  child. 

Imo.  (. starting  up. )  I  was  a  mother,  ’twas  my  child 
I  bore  ; 

The  murderer  hung  upon  my  flying  steps  ; 

The  winds  with  all  their  speed  had  failed  to  match 
me. 

“  Oh  !  how  we  laughed  to  see  the  baffled  fiend 
Stamp  on  the  shore,  and  grind  his  iron  teeth, 

While  safe  and  far  I  braved  the  wave  triumphant, 
And  shook  my  dripping  locks  like  trophied  banner.” 
I  was  a  mother  then. 

Prior .  Where  is  thy  child  ! 

Clo.  ( pointing  to  the  cave  into  which  she  has 
looked )  Oh,  he  lies  cold  within  his  cavern-tomb. 
Why  dost  thou  urge  her  with  the  horrid  theme  ? 

Prior.  It  was  to  wake  one  living  chord  o’  th’  heart, 
And  1  will  try,  though  mine  own  breaks  at  it; 
Where  is  thy  child  ? 

Imo.  {with  a  frantic  laugh)  The  forest  fiend  hath 
snatched  him  ; 

4‘  He  rides  the  night-mare  through  the  wizard 

woods.” 

Prior.  Hopeless  and  dark,  even  the  last  spark  ex¬ 
tinct. 

enter  Zd  monk  hastily.  ' 

Monk.  Bertram,  therp?  isonef  Bertram-— — 


BERTRAM. 


63 


Act  V] 


Prior.  Hush,  thou’lt  kill  her ; 

Haste  thee,  Clotilda,  holy  brethren,  haste  ; 

Remove  her  hence,  ay,  even  to  that  sad  shelter. 

( pointing  to  the  cave ) 

I  see  the  approaching  torches  of  the  guard, 

“  Flash  their  red  light  athwart  the  forest’s  shade,” 
Rear  her  away  ;  u  oh  my  weak  eye  doth  fail 
Amid  these  horrors.” 

( Imagine  is  torn  to  the  cave ,  the  prior  follows ) 


manet  last  monk— enter  a  knight. 

Knight.  Where  is  the  prior  ? 
u  Monk  In  yonder  cave  he  bides. 

And  here  he  wills  us  wait,  for  ’tis  his  purpose 
Once  more  to  parley  with  that  wretched  man  : 

How  fares  he  now  ? 

“  Knight.  As  one  whose  pride  of  soul 
Bears  him  up  singly  in  this  terrible  hour  ; 

His  step  is  firm,  his  eye  is  fixed  ; 

Nor  menace,  nor  reviling,  prayers  nor  curses 
Can  win  an  answer  from  his  closed  lips ; 

It  pities  me,  for  he  is  brave,  most  brave. 

“  Monk.  Pity  him  not. 

“  Knight.  Hush  ;  lo,  he  comes” - 

(a  gleam  of  torch- light  falls  on  the  rocks.  Bertram , 
knights ,  and  monks „  are  seen  winding  down  the  pre¬ 
cipices ,  the  clank  of  Bertram's  chains  the  only  sound 
heard.  They  enter ,  Bertram  is  between  two  monks , 
who  bear  torches ) 

lsf  Monk.  Leave  him  with  us,  and  seek  the  prior, 
I  pray  you. 

Knight.  ( aside  to  monk )  He  yet  may  try  escape. 
We’ll  watch  concealed. 

[ exeunt  all  but  Bertram  and  the  two  monks 
1  st  Monk.  Brief  rest  is  here  allowed  thee— mur¬ 
derer,  pause - 

How  fearful  was  our  footing  on  those  cliffs, 


64  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Where  time  had  worn  those  steep  and  rocky  steps, 

I  counted  them  to  thee  as  we  descended. 

But  thou  for  pride  wast  dumb — - 
Ber.  I  heard  thee  not— 

2 d  Monk  Look  round  thee,  murderer,  drear  thy 
resting  place— 

This  is  thy  latest  stage— survey  it  well — 

“Lo,  as  I  wave  my  dimmed  torch  aloft, 

Yon  precipice  crag  seems  as  if  every  tread 
(Yea,  echoed  impulse  of  the  passing  foot) 

Would  loose  its  weight  to  topple  o’er  our  heads— 
Those  cavities  hollowed  by  the  hand  of  wrath — 
Those  deepening  gulfs,  have  they  no  horrible  tenant? 
Dare  thine  eye  scan  that  spectred  vacancy  ? 

Ber.  I  do  not  mark  the  things  thou  tell’st  me  of. 

1  st  Monk.  Wretch,  if  thy  fear  no  spectred  inmate 
shapes - 

Ber .  ( starting  from  his  trance )  Cease,  triflers, 
would  you  have  me  feel  remorse  ? 

Leave  me  alone — nor  cell,  nor  chain,  nor  dungeon, 
Speaks  to  the  murderer  with  the  voice  of  solitude. 

1  st  Monk .  “  Thou  sayest  true.” 

In  cruelty  of  mercy  will  we  leave  thee. 

[ exeunt  monks 

Ber.  If  they  would  go  in  truth — but  what  avails  it? 

[he  meditates  in  gloomy  refection  for  some  minutes , 
and  his  countenance  slowly  relaxes  from  its  stern 
expression) 

the  prior  enters  unobserved ,  and  stands  opposite 
him  in  an  attitude  of  supplication.  Bertram  re¬ 
sumes  his  sternness) 

Ber.  Why  art  thou  here  ?  There  was  a  hovering 
angel 

Just  lighting  on  my  heart — and  thou  hast  scared  it — 
Prior.  Yea,  rather  with  my  prayers  I’ll  woo  it 
back. 

In  very  pity  of  thy  soul  l  come 

To  weep  upon  that  heart  I  cannot  soften — 

[a  long  pause ) 

Oh  !  thou  art  on  the  verge  of  awful  death — 


BERTRAM, 


65 


Act  V] 

Think  of  the  moment,  when  the  veiling  scarf 
That  binds  thine  eyes  shall  shut  nut  earth  for  ever — 
When  in  thy  dizzy  ear,  hurtles  the  groan 
Of  those  who  see  the  smiting  hand  upreared, 

Thou  canst  but  feel — that  moment  comes  apace-- 

(Bertram  smiles ) 

But  terrors  move  in  thee  a  horrid  joy, 

And  thou  art  hardened  by  habitual  danger 
Beyond  the  sense  of  aught  but  pride  in  death. 

( Bertram  turns  away ) 
Can  I  not  move  thee  by  one  power  in  nature  ? 

There  have  been  those  whom  Heaven  hath  failed  to 
move, 

Yet  moved  they  were  by  tears  of  kneeling  age. 

(kneels) 

I  wave  all  pride  of  ghostly  power  o’er  thee — 

I  lift  no  cross,  I  count  no  bead  before  thee — 

By  the  locked  agony  of  these  withered  hands, 

By  these  white  hairs,  such  as  thy  father  bore, 
(Whom  thou  could’st  ne’er  see  prostrate  in  the  dust) 
With  toil  to  seek  thee  here  my  limbs  do  fail, 

Send  me  not  broken-hearted  back  again — 

Yield,  and  relent,  Bertram,  my  son,  my  son. 

(weeping  and  looking  up  eagerly ) 
Did  not  a  gracious  drop  bedew  thine  eye  ? 

Ber,  Perchance  a  tear  had  fallen,  hadst  thou  not 
marked  it. 

Prior,  (rising  with  dignity )  Obdurate  soul — then 

perish  in  thy  pride - 

Hear  in  my  voice  thy  parting  angel  speak, 

Repent — and  be  forgiven - 

(Bertram  turns  towards  him  in  strong  emotion ,  when 
a  shriek  is  heard  from  the  cavern.  Bertram  stands 
fixed  in  horror ) 

Prior  (stretching  out  his  hands  towards  the  ca¬ 
vern)  Plead  thou  for  me — thou  whose  wild  voice  of 
horror, 

Has  pierced  the  heart  my  prayers  have  failed  to 
touch. 


66  BERTRAM.  [Maturin 

Ber.  (‘wildly)  What  voice  was  that — yet  do  not 
dare  to  rell  me, 

Name  not  her  name,  1  charge  thee. 

Prior.  Imogine . - 

A  maniac  through  these  shuddering  woods  she  wan¬ 
ders, 

But  in  her\ madness,  never  cursed  thy  name. 
(Bertram  attempts  to  rush  towards  the -cave,  but 
stands  stupijied  on  hearing  a  shriek  from  the 
cavern.  Imagine  rushes  from  it  in  distraction , 
bursting  from  the  arms  of  Clotilda  ;  the  monks  and 
knights  follow ,  and  remain  in  the  back  ground ) 
Imo.  Away,  away,  away,  no  wife — no  mother — 
(she  rushes  forward  till  she  meets  Bertram ,  who 
stands  in  speechless  horror ) 

Imo.  Give  me  my  husband,  give  me  back  my  child ; 
“Nay  give  me  back  myself — ” 

They  say  I’m  mad,  but  yet  I  knew  thee  well — 

Look  on  me — They  would  bind  these  wasted  limbs — 
I  ask  but  death — death  from  thy  hand — that  hand  can 
deal  death  well — and  yet  thou  wilt  not  give  it. 

Ber .  (gazing  on  her  for  a  moment ,  then  rushing  to 
the  prior ,  and  sinking  at  his  feet ) 

Who  hath  done  this?  Where  are  the  racks  I  hoped 
for  ? 

Am  I  not  weak  ?  am  I  not  humbled  now  ? 

(grovelling  at  the  Prior’s  feet ,  and  then  turning  to 

the  knights ) 

Hast  thou  no  curse  to  blast — no  curse  for  me _ 

Is  there  no  hand  to  pierce  a  soldier’s  heart  ? 

Is  there  no  foot  to  crush  a  felon’s  neck  ? 

Imo.  (raising  herself  at  the  sound  of  his  voice) 
Bertram. 

(he  rushes  towards  her ,  and  first  repeats  Imogine 
feebly  ;  as  he  approaches ,  he  utters  her  name  again 
passionately ,  but  as  he  draws  nearer  and  sees 
her  look  of  madness  and  desperation ,  he  repeats 
it  once  more  in  despair ,  and  does  not  dare  to  ap - 


Act  V]  BERTRAM.  6 7 

firoach  her ,  till  he  perceives  her  falling  into  Clo¬ 
tilda’s  arms ,  and  catches  her  in  his ) 

Imo.  Have  l  deserved  this  of  thee  ?  ( she  dies  slow¬ 
ly ,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Bertrams  who  continues  to 
gaze  o'/i  her ,  unconscious  of  her  having  expired) 

Prior.  ’Tis  past  ;  remove  him  from  the  corse - 

( the  knights  and  monks  advance ,  he  waves  them  off 
with  one  handy  still  supporting  the  body) 

“  Prior,  (to  the  monks)  Brethren,  remove  the 
corse — - — ” 

Ber.  She  is  not  dead — ( starting  up) 

She  must  not,  shall  not  die  till  she  forgives  me — 
Speak,  speak  to  me — (kneeling  to-the  corpse) 
(turning  to  the  monks)  Yes — she  will  speak  anon  ; 

(a  long  pause  :  he  drops  on  the  corse) 
She  speaks  no  more  ;  why  do  ye  gaze  on  me  ? 

1  loved  her,  yea,  I  love,  in  death  I  loved  her  : 

I  killed  her,  but  1  loved  her  : 

What  arm  shall  loose  the  grasp  of  love  and  death  ? 
(the  knights  and  monks  surround  and  attempt  to  tear 
him  from  the  body ,  he  snatches  a  sword  from  one 
of  the  knights ,  who  retreats  in  terror ,  as  it  is  point¬ 
ed  towards  him.  Bertram ,  resuming  all  his  for¬ 
mer  sternness ,  bursts  into  a  disdainful  laugh) 

Ber .  Thee — against  thee — oh,  thou  art  safe,  thou 
worm - 

Bertram  hath  but  one  fatal  foe  on  earth, 

And-Ae  is  here - (stabs  himself ) 

Prior,  (rushes  forward)  He  dies,  he  dies. 

Ber.  (struggling  with  the  agonies  of  death) 

I  know  thee,  holy  prior — 1  know  ye,  brethren, 

Lift  up  your  holy  hands  in  charity. 

(with  a  bursting  of  wild  exultation) 

I  died  no  felon  death - 

A  warrior’s  weapon  freed  a  warrior’s  soul. 


END  OF  BERTRAM. 


4 


